


The Dalish Curse

by Ophiel



Series: Post-Trespasser Inquisition [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tabletop Gaming, Dalish Elven Culture and Customs, Dalish Elves, Demonic Possession, Demons, F/M, Mages and Templars, Magic-Users, Magical Realism, Marriage, OTP Feels, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-Trespasser, The Fade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 22:52:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5224040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ophiel/pseuds/Ophiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evelyn and Cullen, now married, make their way to Mia's vineyard near South Reach; where Evelyn discovers country-boy proposals, puppy-dog eyes, the fact that there's more to marriage than she anticipated, and sinister news of Dalish attacks.</p><p>This is a compilation of The Dalish Curse posted as a series, now posted as chapters as they should have been. Comments bring joy :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting Mia

The ruins were old, ancient, from a time when Elves shaped the world with their very thoughts. The spires had risen to the clouds, as delicate as frosted sugar yet as strong as stone. But the ages and the earth had now claimed them all, save the main keep. Trees grew where ancient elves once walked, wide paths crossing the forest floor, kept clear by the ambling Sylvans. Not even elves ventured here now, for many had forgotten this ancient keep.

 

But there was a voice now. A lone figure walked through the forest towards the keep, his rage evident in his stride. The voice called out to the elf, cajoling, entreating, demanding… The elf vanished into the keep, never to be heard from again.

 

+++

 

The horses moved at a stately pace along the West Road of Ferelden. It was nearly summer, and the rains were incessant as spring released its grip on the country. Evelyn rode with her hood up, one hand holding the side of their covered wagon. Cullen held the reigns of the horses confidently in his gloved hands. Evelyn liked the quiet way he did things, so assured of himself. She was feeling far from assured.

 

From afar, no one would suspect that the Inquisitor and the Commander of the Inquisition were driving a wagon down a muddy Ferelden road. To everyone, they were just another travelling couple. With her cloak drawn, no one saw where her arm had been severed at the elbow to prevent the mark from killing her. Not to mention the fact that no one knew her face, or his. To most people, their titles were as real as a dream in the Fade. Remove the armour and the magic, and they were everyday people. It was going to be a peaceful journey, they said. Evelyn had asked Cullen to leave his sword and shield behind. He had agreed when she said she wouldn’t bring her staff. She didn’t tell him that her staff and spectral blade hilt were under the wagon, hidden in a panel.

 

“You don’t have to be out here,” he said as she adjusted her cloak about her to keep off the rain.

 

“I want to,” she replied stiffly. “The wagon is stuffy anyway.” A snore erupted from the back of the wagon, followed by tiny barks. “There’s that too.”

 

Cullen chuckled. “He does snore sometimes, doesn’t he? But, we’re almost there, another two hours, if we’re lucky,” he added, squinting at the sky. “I can’t even tell what time it is.”

 

“Mmhm.”

 

Cullen looked at her with worry in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

 

Evelyn blinked, pulled from her thoughts, and glanced at him. “Nothing!” she said, laughing a little shrilly. “I was just- sleepy. You don’t have to worry about me just because I’m quiet.”

 

“Yes, because this response only reassures me that nothing is wrong indeed.” He put his hand on her knee. “Eve,” he said quietly.

 

With those eyes and the way they pleaded, it was like saying no to a puppy. She sighed. “I’m nervous, of course,” she said. “I’m a mage and a noble and... not whole… I know my way around princes and kings and lords, but when I think of facing your sister, suddenly I have no idea what to do or say.”

 

He took a deep breath, his grip reassuring on her knee. “Eve, that doesn’t matter. You’re a mage, they’ll adjust. You’re a noble, you’ll adjust, as well.”

 

She frowned, biting her lip. “And my arm-”

 

“Doesn’t matter in the least. Eve, I love you. You’re my wife. That’s all that matters to me.”

 

Evelyn smiled, reassured. “I don’t know how to do anything around a farm, though,” she said.

 

“Don’t worry, I already wrote ahead to warn them.”

 

“What?” Evelyn exclaimed.

 

“They wouldn’t expect you to, anyway, being a nob- guest.”

 

She leaned back against the wagon’s board, biting her thumbnail worriedly. He reached up to pull her hand away from her face. “Stop it,” Evelyn said, bringing her nail back. He pulled her hand away again and leaned in to kiss her, his lips tasting of rain.

 

“They’ll love you,” he assured her.

 

She took a deep breath and nodded. She was soaked to the skin and her hair was a mess. Her boots were muddy and already she knew the possibility of making a first impression based on looks was gone. Perhaps that was a good thing. Cullen’s family were the salt of the earth, they wouldn’t be impressed by titles.

 

The rain had lessened into a pervasive drizzle by the time they crested a hill and looked down into the valley. There, in the middle of the rolling hills, backed by the deep green of the Brescillian Forest, sat the small town of Vintiver. The town was half a day’s journey from South Reach, though it still fell under the bann’s protection. There were arbors and vineyards here, sprawling over the hills around the town. Two-storeyed farm houses dotted the fields, plastered white with arched windows, surrounded by wooden barns and other farm buildings. Evelyn smiled. “Despite the rain, it’s beautiful,” she said, taking in the scene under the gray sky.

 

Cullen smiled, steering the horse off the road and heading towards the fields. They took a small road through the vineyards. “Are these all yours?” she asked.

 

“My family’s,” Cullen replied. “We make quite a pleasant red.”

 

“Really? Why haven’t you brought some to Skyhold?”

 

“The way you drink? It’ll be gone in a day”

 

“Come on!”

 

“We can try some. The village usually mixes yields for sale, though.”

 

“I look forward to it!” That perked her up. “Why do you mix?"

 

"We don't have the capital to bottle our own," he said.

 

"That's something we should talk about, then," she smiled warmly.

 

Cullen met her smile. “I would like that.”

 

Evelyn saw them round the bend in the path, a pleasant house flanked by white plastered walls rose above the vines. She bit her lip, her nervousness rising once more. “I look horrible don’t I?” she asked urgently.

 

Cullen tried for a tactful answer. “Er.”

 

“Thank you, Cullen,” Evelyn chuckled despite herself. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

 

They entered the arched gateway, driving the wagon towards the door. The windows were glassed and lit from within. It looked extremely inviting. Chickens ran across the wet yard and into the barn, clucking and bobbing their necks as they dodged the horse’s hooves. “You have chickens!” Evelyn exclaimed, then wished she hadn’t sounded so excited. There was a snort from the back of the cart as their slumbering passenger awoke. The mabari that Cullen had bought at Halamshiral stared excitedly at the barn and barked its deep throaty bark.

 

“No, that’s an order,” Cullen said sternly, waving a finger at the dog and stepped down from the wagon. The dog barked and whined in the back of the wagon, laying its head down on the wet wood mournfully. Cullen came around to help her down, his hands on her waist. She spent years fighting demons, yet he still insisted he helped her on and off a wagon. She didn’t mind. That was the sort of man he was. Her boots crunched the gravel as she landed. “Ready?”

 

“No.”

 

The door slammed open. “Cullen Stanton Rutherford!” The voice was round and as warm as a hug. Evelyn turned to see a woman at the door, donned in a simple smock and apron with her honey blonde hair tied back from her face. She was slightly older than Cullen, her eyes the same colour as his. She was as tall as he was.

 

Cullen was wincing as she yelled his name. “Mia,” he began, but she was already running around the cart in the rain. She threw her arms around him and hugged him dearly. Cullen was laughing, though his eyes were wet as he returned the embrace. Evelyn stood by the side, her own tears coming to her eyes as she watched them reunite. Through all the distance that came between them, not once had Mia waned in her concern for her brother. They spoke no words, for no words were needed.

 

Evelyn wiped tears from her eyes. After a long moment, Mia took a deep breath and stepped away from Cullen. She wiped her own eyes with the corner of her apron. “That’s for coming home.” Then she punched him on the shoulder. “That’s for the short letters.”

 

Cullen winced, rubbing his shoulder. “I suppose I deserve that.”

 

Mia looked at Evelyn. “Hello,” Evelyn said with a stiff little wave.

 

Mia enfolded her in an embrace as well. The woman had a hug like a vice. “Maker’s mercy! We never thought Cullen would bring home a wife,” Mia laughed warmly.

 

Evelyn hugged her with her one arm. “Mia, thank you, I need to-” she choked a little.

 

Mia let her go and Evelyn took a deep breath, the wind knocked out of her. “Welcome home, Evelyn,” she grinned. “We hope you’ll be happy with us.”

 

“Thank you,” Evelyn said, her heart in her eyes. She was not expecting such… warmth. Her mother had never embraced her like this, not even after years in the Circle.

 

“Rickard!” Mia yelled. “Rick! Come see to the horse!” Mia took both their hands and led them inside the warmth of the house. The warmth hit them immediately. The house was cosy, with low, dark beamed ceilings and wooden floors. The walls were plastered as well, glowing with the light of the fire in the lit hearth. Carpets warmed the feet and tapestries hung from the walls. “It’s lovely,” Evelyn said, falling in love with the feel of the place. It was so inviting. Everything about it was welcoming.

 

“It took me forever to polish the floors. Boots off! We’ll get them cleaned tomorrow. You’re both filthy.”

 

“It was raining all the way from Redcliffe,” Cullen said, sitting on a low wooden bench by the door to pull off his boots and slip on the soft shoes Mia handed him. Evelyn unlaced hers and slipped them off to change into house slippers. A man came down the staircase to the upper floors. He had muddy brown hair touched by gray at the temples. His hair hugged his cheekbones, rakishly unkept. “Finally!” he grinned, catching Cullen’s hand and pulling him into a hug. “This is the Cullen Mia keeps talking about. You know, she said you weren’t all that easy on the eyes. How did you manage to convince this lovely woman to marry you?”

 

“What?” Cullen laughed.

 

“All the hits on the head I got,” Evelyn drily. “You know, how that affects the thinking.”

 

“Yes, that must be it,” Cullen rolled his eyes as Evelyn playfully jabbed him in the rib with her elbow. He pulled away. He was ticklish, a fact she delighted in.

 

“That’s how I married Mia, too,” Rickard sniggered, then dodged as Mia tried to hit him on the arm.

 

“Their horse needs a good rub down, Rick,” Mia said seriously. “It’s been walking in the wet.”

 

Mia wrinkled her nose at their muddy boots. “Give Rick a hand, Cullen,” she said.

 

“Yes, Mia,” Cullen said, perhaps automatically. He sat down to put his boots on again, casting a glance at Mia, and followed Rickard outside with the dog padding along happily beside him. For all that Mia owned a farm, she commanded like a noble, Evelyn noted.

 

Mia turned to her, taking Evelyn’s sodden leather cloak. “Come, I’ve prepared a bath for you,” she said. “And some clothing.”

 

“Mia, you’re a treasure,” Evelyn said earnestly.

 

Mia chuckled. “I am, aren’t I?” She led the way up the stairs, the walls lined with drawings on parchment delicately framed with rosewood. “Lovely, aren’t they?” Mia said, gesturing to the drawings.

 

“They are.”

 

“Cullen drew them.”

 

“What?” Evelyn blurted out. “He draws?”

 

Mia couldn’t help but laugh at Evelyn’s reaction. “Marriage is full of these little surprises, you’ll find,” she grinned. “How long have you been married?”

 

“Um, just this spring.”

 

“At Halamshiral?”

 

“Yes,” Evelyn blushed. “It was quite a surprise. We both just… did it.”

 

“Did what?” Mia blinked. “Are you withchild?”

 

“What! No! No, I’m not!”

 

“Don’t rush it,” Mia smiled. Evelyn was blushing to the roots of her hair. “Have I given offence?”

 

Evelyn bit her lip. “No, you just… surprised me,” she admitted with a smile. “No one’s asked me that before.”

 

“Most marriages in the country come with the wife either expecting or birthed already, it’s the country-boy’s proposal,” Mia said warmly. “I was just asking. I know nobles do it differently.” And there it was, Evelyn noted cynically and chose to say nothing. Mia opened the door to a room with a double bed and another lit fireplace. There was a large tub of hot water before the fire and some wash cloths. There was also a wash basin. The water steamed invitingly.

 

“Thank you,” Evelyn breathed happily.

 

“Take your time, dinner won’t be ready for a while yet,” Mia smiled and shut the door behind her.

 

Once the door was shut, Evelyn began to undress. Within a minute, she was wiping herself clean of the mud with water from the basin. Within five, she was in the tub, soaking to her neck, her dark hair flaring out in the water. She moaned happily as the warmth filled her.

 

“This one?” she heard a muffled voice outside the door. It was Cullen’s. She heard footsteps stop outside the door and it opened. Cullen stepped in, holding their packs from the wagon. “Where’s the wagon?” Evelyn asked, thinking of her staff and hilt.

 

“Outside,” Cullen said, shutting the door with his heel. “I thought perhaps Dog should sleep in the barn. Mia doesn't like animals in the house. You’re in the tub surprisingly fast.”

 

“I was keeping it warm for you,” Evelyn purred.

 

He chuckled and set the packs down by the bed, his own pack large with gifts for his family. He went to the wash basin with a clean washcloth and began to undress. Evelyn moved to the other side of the tub, watching him disrobe. She idly watched him wring the wet cloth, liking the way his forearms moved, the way firelight danced off his wet chest as he cleaned himself.

 

“How are you?” he asked, glancing at her.

 

“I’m enjoying the view,” she smiled.

 

“Yes, well, all those hits to the head,” he chuckled as he bent to wipe his calves down. “I meant, I meant with Mia.”

 

“She’s lovely,” Evelyn said. “But very loud.” Cullen laughed. “And she asked if I was withchild.”

 

Cullen froze, the cloth around an ankle.

 

“I’m not,” Evelyn evenly.

 

Cullen moved again, muttering something under his breath.

 

“She said it was the country-boy’s proposal,” Evelyn chuckled.

 

“Not all the time, but… most of the time,” Cullen admitted.

 

“Get in the tub already,” Evelyn grinned, making space for him. He climbed in, the water dangerously near the lip of the tub when he settled. Evelyn leaned against him in the tub, their bodies fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. “Mia is lovely and Rickard seems funny. Do they have children?”

 

“No,” Cullen replied, leaning his arms on the lip of the tub. “They’ve been trying for years, from what I know.”

 

“I see.” She stared into the dancing fireplace as the drizzle abated outside. She felt him wrap his arms around her from behind. “We’ll have to talk about that soon too,” he said, kissing her wet hair.

 

Evelyn nodded, hesitant about that conversation. “We will,” she said. “When we get back to Skyhold.” Cullen only nodded, holding her close.

 

+++

 

Dinner was hearty and delicious. Mia was a master in the kitchen. The spiced nug was perfect, the dumpling stew was filling to the brim and the wine she served was amazing. “Mia, you must teach me,” Evelyn said, her eyes alight as she reached across the wooden table for another helping of nug.

 

“Gladly!” Mia laughed, passing her another loaf from the bread basket. “I’ll teach you all of Cullen’s favourite foods.”

 

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Cullen said brightly.

 

“Don’t get too hopeful that you’ll eat like this every day, the cook would skin me if I horned in on the kitchen,” Evelyn told Cullen.

 

“Not to mention we can’t have the Commander with a beer belly, can we?” Rickard asked.

 

“I’m not going to get a beer belly,” Cullen helped himself to another helping of stew. “I don’t even drink beer. Could you top up my glass, Eve?”

 

Evelyn rolled her eyes but did as he asked, filling his wine cup with the wine that Mia grew. Their wine was sweet and mellow, delicious with meats. Evelyn wondered if her mother would like to try some, and made a mental note to send a bottle or two to Ostwick. “When are Branson and Rosalie coming to visit?” Cullen asked.

 

Rickard glanced at Mia as he broke a loaf of bread. “Maybe tomorrow,” Mia replied with her smile fixed on her face. “We’ll have to see if the weather allows and the roads are safe.”

 

“Safe?”

 

“What? It’s nothing. We’ll go into town tomorrow,” Mia said. “Perhaps we should meet them there. Rosalie’s inn is doing well-”

 

“Mia,” Rickard cut in, a note of steel in his voice.

 

Mia glanced at him and sighed slightly. “It’s that your timing is a bit bad, Cullen,” she said. “It’s been a little unsafe on the road. We’re glad you were unmolested on your journey.”

 

“What’s been happening?” Cullen asked intently. Evelyn wondered if he knew he used his Commander’s voice on his sister.

 

Mia, it seems, was immune to taking orders from her younger brother, Commander of the Divine’s Guard or no. “Don’t worry, Warden Jarred has everything under control.”

 

“They suspect the Dalish are hunting people,” Rickard said. Evelyn’s eyes narrowed.

 

“Rick-” Mia began, but Rickard pat her hand calmly, his eyes hard.

 

He went on. “They came in some weeks ago to trade some of their wares for our Summersday celebration. Rosalie said there was some fight at the blacksmith’s. The clan left and then people on the road through the woods started turning up dead. Jarred has stepped up patrols and the deaths have stopped so far.”

 

Mia put her hand on Cullen’s. “You’re on holiday,” she said intently. “There’s trouble everywhere. You don’t have to step in here.”

 

“Rosalie has an inn?” Evelyn asked, nudging Cullen on the leg under the table.  

 

“Yes, the Green Arbor in town,” said Mia gratefully. “She married the innkeeper’s son. Branson lives in town as well.”

 

“Perhaps they could accompany us here tomorrow,” Cullen smiled.

 

“Branson?” Mia blinked. She sounded uncertain. “Well, I suppose he could. He did want to come.”

 

“What would go wrong?” Evelyn grinned.

 

“Not to mention you’re a mage,” Rickard added. Evelyn glanced at him worriedly. “I’ve never seen magic, but no one would possibly want to tangle with you - Dalish or no.”

 

“Right,” Evelyn laughed weakly. “Well, we might as well. I know I’m looking forward to seeing Aidan. I’ve heard so much about him.” She blinked. “Also, Dog should meet him!”

 

“Who gave the mabari that name?” Rickard asked curiously.

 

“Who else?” Evelyn sighed.

 

“The name serves perfectly fine,” Cullen insisted.

 

Dog turned out to have a huge helping of leftovers and bones from Mia’s kitchen that night. Evelyn accompanied Cullen to the barn to feed him. They walked through the sodden yard and into the quiet of the barn, Cullen holding Dog’s feeding bowl. As they opened the barn’s side door, they could hear Mia and Rickard in the kitchen. There seemed to be an argument afoot. “Probably over what Rickard said about the Dalish,” Evelyn said as they entered the barn, shutting the door behind them.

 

“Mia probably did not want us to know,” Cullen nodded. They looked at the dark barn lit by moonlight from a high window. The horses nickered skittishly in their stalls. Dog burst from a pile of hay, barking delightedly. It pranced around Cullen like a puppy, wagging its tail so hard its whole hind quarters swung.

 

It ran up to Evelyn. “No-” Evelyn began, but Dog stood on its hind legs and licked her across the face. “Argh!” Evelyn pushed the beast away, her hair plastered to her cheek with dog saliva. “Maker’s breath!” She wiped her face with her sleeve.

 

“He always liked you better,” Cullen laughed and set the feeding bowl down. Dog immediately forgot about Evelyn and went to eat noisily, gobbling the food with lip-smacking fervour. “What do you make of the Dalish?” Cullen asked as he stood up, watching Dog eat.

 

“I think it’s unusual,” Evelyn replied. “Tensions are not uncommon but killings instigated by the Dalish? That’s… strange.”

 

“Tomorrow we’ll speak to this blacksmith.”

 

“That is probably why Mia didn’t want to tell us,” Evelyn said, leaning against a barn post, her good arm reaching across to hold the stump of the other.

 

“They’re my family,” Cullen said. “I won’t si-”

 

“Sit by and ignore this,” Evelyn finished. “Neither will I. Branson and Aidan should be better here. The walls are decent, in case anything happens. The only question now is whether we need to bring Inquisition soldiers in on this, alert the crown or handle this ourselves.”

 

“We are not fighting,” Cullen said firmly. “You haven’t cast a spell since Halamshiral.”

 

“I’m not an invalid, Cullen,” Evelyn retorted. “And that matter is academic right now. We don’t know anything other than ‘Dalish Bad’. Even you can see that this situation is delicate.”

 

“We agree on that much,” Cullen said. He sighed. “I thought this would be a restful holiday.”

 

“For now, it is. We’re just visiting our relatives while, at the same time, poking our nose into business that doesn’t concern us. I’m not the Inquisitor and you’re not the Commander.” Dog finished his food and sat by Cullen’s feet, begging with its large brown eyes. “You both look alike.”

 

“He is a magnificent beast, I agree,” Cullen grinned.

 

“Yes, that’s exactly what I meant,” Evelyn gave in.

 


	2. The Uninvited Dinner Guests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn meets Rosalie and Branson, and his son Aidan. They settle down to what promises to be a happy family reunion, only to have unexpected dinner guests ruin the evening.

The Green Arbour was a beautiful building of orange brick. It had two floors and was draped with vines from which grapes grew. A seating area by the main square was shaded with vine-covered trellises casting dappled shadows on the guests who dined there. It had dawned sunny, which Evelyn was grateful for. Her hair was loosely braided over one shoulder and she had left her nice clothes behind in favour of a light green tunic and brown breeches, belted at the waist with a sash.

 

Cullen, too wore a simple plaid tunic and leather vest as he drove their wagon into town. Mia and Rick rode in the back. Mia had insisted on bringing the wagon, wanting to buy stores from town, since they were already there.

 

“You look delightfully quaint, Commander Cullen,” Evelyn teased Cullen quietly  as they crossed the village square.

 

“As do you, Lady Inquisitor,” Cullen chuckled quietly. “We should dress like this around Skyhold.”

 

“Josephine would absolutely approve.”

 

“Awe,” Mia laughed from the back of the wagon. “Rick, they’re so cute.”

 

“They can hear you.”

 

“I know, but still.”

 

Evelyn and Cullen slipped into an embarrassed silence, smiling shyly in the front seat. Part of her wished she could reach out to hold his hand, but all that was left was a stump. She settled for leaning on his shoulder instead. Her mother often told her that marriage was for necessity, that she would have been wed to a duke or comte if not for her magic. For once, Evelyn was glad for the magic that spared her that fate. She was married to Cullen now. He had no title, no lands of his own, but he stood above any Arl.

 

The stopped their wagon in the barn that adjoined the inn and headed inside with Cullen helping Evelyn off the wagon once more.

 

Within the common room, low tables and benches filled the room. The air was heavy with the smell of fresh sourdough bread and wine. There were labourers at the bar, their hats wide-brimmed and flopping about their heads like Cole’s did. Behind the bar, moving before huge casks, a buxom lady with a small waist served drinks, her honey blonde hair tied in two pigtails by the side of her head. “Rosalie!” Mia called, waving.

 

The woman turned, her eyes widening with glee. To Evelyn’s surprise, Rosalie vaulted over the bar and ran to Cullen, throwing her arms around his neck with abandon. “Cully!” she squealed as he caught her. “You’re finally back!”

 

“And you’re finally not as short!” Cullen teased. Rosalie was indeed shorter, shorter than even Evelyn.

 

“And this is Evelyn, the girl he somehow convinced to marry him,” Mia teased, nudging Evelyn forward.

 

Rosalie looked at her with her wide eyes and freckled face. She curtseyed daintily. “Milady,” she smiled.

 

“Please, you don’t have to,” Evelyn laughed a little awkwardly. “It’s nice to meet you Rosalie.”

 

Rosalie giggled. “I know. I just wanted to see your reaction.” She embraced Evelyn warmly. “Welcome to the family! Now all of us are married! We thought you were imaginary.”

 

“What.” Evelyn droned.

 

“Have some wine!” Rosalie beamed. “Sit, I’ll bring out something to drink. Treston is out with Warden Jarred patrolling, he’ll be-” She stopped and covered her mouth, looking guiltily at Mia.

 

“They already know, Ross,” Mia sighed. “I trust they’ll not do anything silly.”

 

“Us? We would never,” Cullen said primly.

 

“Cully is never silly,” Rosalie rolled her eyes. “The Chantry only made his upper lip more stiff. But please sit, I’ll bring the wine!”

 

Rickard touched Mia’s elbow. “The grocer’s is open,” he pointed out, looking across the square at the market. “If you want those greens, you’d better go.”

 

“Right,” Mia said. “Cul, you and Evelyn just wait here. Grocers, then blacksmith, then tinkers and we’ll be finished.”

 

“I could help you go to the blacksmith’s,” Evelyn offered. “You just need a pot fixed, right? Can’t be hard.”

 

Mia looked at her with slight suspicion in her eyes. “Right. Thank you! Just remember, you’re on holiday!” She hurried off with Rickard in tow.

 

Cullen called her over to a table where Rosalie had set a bottle of wine and three cups. She moved to them. “I need to handle something for Mia first,” Evelyn said. “A pot needs fixing.”

 

Rosalie pouted. “I wanted to hear stories about your adventures,” she said.

 

“Cullen can tell you,” Evelyn grinned. “Tell her about Wicked Grace, love.”

 

“No,” Cullen’s voice tone final. Evelyn laughed and went to the wagon to get the pot that needed mending.

 

She carried the pot across the square, sidestepping flocks of geese that walked across the street with abandon, heading to market. She had walked the halls of empresses and kings and here she was in a quaint town, fixing a pot. She would never have imagined it. She followed the sound of hammering steel, stepping off the main square into a side street. In the shadows of the alley, she could see the dull light of a lit forge. Farming implements hung from the entrance of the forge, ploughs, rakes, sickles and the like glinted with the forge’s fire.

 

“Excuse me,” she called, not seeing anyone in sight. There was a grunt from the forge, where a man sat at the bellows, one foot on the paddle as he pumped the fire in the forge to rouse it.

 

“What do you want, missy?” The man had a round build, which might have been comical if one did not realize that under all that flab was muscle so honed they didn’t even need to try to appear puffed up. He was going bald at the temple, but made up for it with a majestic braided mustache. She wondered if he was trying to look dwarvish.

 

“This pot has a hole,” she said.

 

“Are you from around here?” he asked Evelyn suddenly.

 

“Why would you ask that?”

 

“Because a little missy like you does not cook, you look like a stick,” he growled. “Not to mention your arm. How can you cook like that?”

 

Evelyn felt her ears begin to burn. The man irritated her. She had to be nice regardless. “I’m visiting my in-laws,” she admitted.

 

“Who?”

 

Why did he need to know all these things just to mend a pot, Evelyn wondered in exasperation.

 

“The Rutherfords,” she said, still smiling.

 

“Ah, then that’ll be for Mia? Branson?”

 

“Mia.”

 

He grunted. “Set it down on the table there and come back in twenty minutes.”

 

Evelyn set the pot down. “I’d rather wait,” she said. “I told Mia I’d bring it back.” He grunted and said nothing. Evelyn looked about the forge curiously, admiring the tools. “These have excellent edges, ser,” she complimented the man. “You have considerable skill.”

 

“Aye, that I do.”

 

“Do you sell these? With such an edge, I imagine even the Dalish would come to trade.”

 

The man snorted and spat into the forge. “Piss on them,” he snapped. “Blasted knife-ears.”

 

“Have they offended you?” she asked, putting on her most vapid expression.

 

“You’re too right, dirty cheats. Coming here, mocking my wares.” He spat into the fire again. “Piss on them.”

 

“What?” Evelyn blinked. “They did that?”

 

“And now, they’re killing people, you hear? Them knife-ears after all the kindness we showed them not throwing them out.”

 

“Bastards,” Evelyn growled. “I always hated those godless knife-ears.”

 

“Aye, too right!” He got up and ambled over to get her pot. He set a ring around the hole in the pot and went to draw out a cup of molten copper from the forge. “Good to see a missy with a good head. You want my advice, stay out of the fields. If the wolves don’t get you, the damn knife-ears will.” He tapped the metal gently to set it, then doused the pot in a trough of water entirely.

 

“When did they last come here?”

 

“Three weeks ago,” he said.

 

“Then the killing started when they left.”

 

“Aye.” He handed her the wet pot brusquely with the metal tongs he used to douse the pot. “That’ll cost a silver.”

 

+++

 

“A silver?” Cullen exclaimed.

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Evelyn said placatingly as she sat down beside Cullen in the dappled shade of the Green Arbour’s trellises. “He’s not very polite and I don’t want to argue over a silver.”

 

Rosalie tutted. “That Coalan is a right arse,” she insisted, playing idly with a braid. “What happened with the elves… it was his fault.”

 

“Are they really killing people?” asked Evelyn.

 

“Don’t know. Treston says you find dead bodies, most of them killed and slashed and shot full of arrows.” She shuddered. “It’s horrible. They brought one to Branson once to ask him to check how they died. Bran came here and drank away a day and a half afterwards.”

 

“Why would they-” Evelyn began.

 

“Branson is a physician,” Cullen said.

 

“Truly?” Evelyn exclaimed in surprise. “I did not know that.”

 

Someone called Rosalie from within the inn and Rosalie turned to yell that they should keep their knickers on. Where Mia’s voice boomed, Rosalie’s screeched. “I’ve got to go,” she said and kissed Cullen and Evelyn on the cheek. “We’ll have dinner tonight! Mia’s place! Tell her I’m invited!”

 

“You could come back with us,” Cullen said. “We have a wagon. It will fit you, Branson and Aidan just fine. We’re leaving this afternoon once we visit Bran.”

 

“Alright, Treston should be back by then,” Rosalie said. “Have to run, see you!” She ran into the inn and out of sight.

 

“It doesn’t feel like anyone has changed,” Cullen mused, sipping the wine. “Mia still mothers everyone, Rosalie is in her own world of… Maker knows what, and I’m sure we’re going to find Branson with his nose in a book.”

 

“Your family is fascinating so far,” Evelyn took her hand in his. “I don’t know why I was so worried.”

 

“I know.” He looked at her with amusement in his eyes. “I look horrible, don’t I?” he squeaked, mimicking her.

 

“Oh, shut up,” Evelyn laughed. “You won’t be so relaxed when you meet my mother. Next summer. Just in time for her Firefly Ball. Think Halamshiral, but you can’t escape because it’s my mother.”

 

“Andraste preserve me,” Cullen winced. “Can we talk about something else? Would you like to visit Branson?”

 

“Can we?” Evelyn beamed.

 

+++

 

The physician’s clinic was close to the edge of town. Evelyn and Cullen had to ask for directions once or twice. The people of Vintiver would glance at her missing arm and then with kind pity, direct them, sometimes without them even asking.

 

“Well,” Evelyn said as they found the physician’s sign above a door. “At least this missing arm is good for something.”

 

“Just to let you know,” Cullen said seriously as they stopped outside the clinic. “His wife passed on when Aidan was born.”

 

Evelyn nodded. “I’ll watch what I say.”

 

They stepped into the clinic, where a man in a black robe stood behind the counter, reading a book intently. He did not appear to hear them come in. Evelyn had learned to recognize what she now thought of as the Rutherford’s hair colour. “Branson?” Cullen called from the door.

 

The man looked up. Evelyn blinked. He and Cullen looked almost exactly alike, with the difference being that Branson wore thin-rimmed glasses and squinted a bit. Where Cullen was stocky and built from his life as a templar, Branson was slender and lithe.

 

“You’re here!” Branson exclaimed, standing to meet them at the door and a warm embrace. “Maker’s breath, I never thought I’d see the day! And your wife!” He bowed politely to her. “A pleasure to meet you, Lady Trevelyan. You are like a breath of fresh air to my brother’s dour sighs.”

 

“I like him!” Evelyn beamed even as Cullen sighed, dourly.

 

“He’s always had a mouth,” Cullen grinned.

 

“Cullen was always jealous of me,” Branson sighed heavily. “It is a burden I’ve had to bear.” There was the sound of something breaking from upstairs. “And that’s the other one. Aidan! Come down!”

 

A round woman descended a staircase at the back of Branson’s clinic, holding a golden-haired toddler who squirmed unhappily in her arms. “Ser! He broke another glass!” she said apologetically.

 

“Never mind,” Branson sighed, taking the boy from her. “Could you help clean up in the operating room please? I’m afraid Mister Cribins had an accident.”

 

“What accident?” Evelyn asked as the woman left.

 

“He burst.”

 

Evelyn’s imagination shut down at that point.

 

“Ello’ Cul!” the toddler beamed, reaching out to Cullen.

 

“Hello!” Cullen grinned, taking the boy and playfully throwing him in the air. The sight of him with Aidan would stay with Evelyn for many years. She knew Cullen to be a hard commander and a powerful warrior and Templar, but she didn’t not expect him to be so at ease with a child. “Are you being a good boy, Aidan?”

 

“‘esh.” Aidan burbled.

 

Cullen sighed. “Traitor.” He rested Aidan on his hip. “Meet Aunty Eve,” he said, his gaze gentle and his voice warm.

 

“Evie,” Aidan blinked at her.

 

“Hello, Aidan,” she smiled and blinked in shock as Cullen handed the boy to her.

 

“I shouldn’t-” Evelyn said worriedly. “I might drop him.”

 

“Like this,” Branson said as he took Aidan, sitting the boy on her hip and helping her cradle Aidan’s back with her good arm. Aidan clung to her, playing with her braided hair. Without thought, she reached out to steady the boy with the stump of her arm. She bit her lip.

 

“There,” Branson said. “It’s doable. If you have a newborn, it will be a little different.”

 

She laughed awkwardly. “I thought this would be harder,” she admitted.

 

“At first, it always is, but the body finds ways,” Branson smiled.

 

She smiled gratefully at him. Branson was gentle in the way he spoke. She caught Cullen’s shared glance with his brother as well. There was gratitude there too. “Rosalie has invited everyone to Mia’s place for dinner tonight,” Cullen said. “We have a wagon. It might be safer for us all to leave together, all things considered.”

 

Branson nodded. “Of course,” he said. “I’ll get Aidan’s clothes ready. Something tells me we’ll be staying a while.”

 

“At least until the morning, when it’s safer to come back,” Cullen said.

 

“Darling, please don’t eat my hair,” Evelyn pleaded, tilting her head away from the boy who was trying to chew her braid. Cullen came to her rescue and took Aidan for another game of toss, filling the air with the boy’s delighted laughter.

 

+++

 

The wagon was noisy with the family packed into it as they headed back to Mia’s farm. But it was full of warmth and welcome, full of jokes, often at Cullen’s expense. Evelyn had the impression that the family had been saving all of them up for when he returned. As they drove into Mia’s farm, Dog was out in the yard, barking excitedly.

 

Aidan took to the animal immediately. He climbed on before his father could stop him as Dog blinked curiously at the boy. Branson caught Aidan and carried him off the dog.

 

Dog tilted its head, following Branson right to the door of Mia’s house before Mia shoo-ed it away. Mia and Rosalie made themselves busy in the kitchen while Rickard went out into the fields to manage the workers. Cullen had settled down with Aidan to play in the living room.

 

“Chess?” Branson asked Evelyn, taking Mia’s set off the mantlepiece.

 

“I’d be no use in the kitchen anyway,” Evelyn grinned as she sat down to clear a table.

 

“Play nice, Eve,” Cullen said, not looking up from Aidan’s little game of ‘let’s bite every one of uncle’s fingers.’

 

“I’m always nice,” Evelyn said loftily.

 

“You and a certain Tervinter have quite a lot in common,” Cullen added.

 

“She cheats?” Branson asked, setting the pieces.

 

“Terribly.”

 

“Cullen!” Evelyn snapped.  

 

The sun began to set over the hills as the food was laid on the table. Dog kept watching from the windows, hoping food would be thrown his way. Mia frowned as she set the table. “Where is that man?” she asked in exasperation.

 

Dog barked outside. “What is wrong with your dog?” Rosalie asked as the barking grew louder. Cullen went to the window and peered out at the settling dusk. The gate was open, waiting for Rickard to return. Dog was growling now, barking at the open gate. Evelyn said the change in the air. She went to Cullen’s side. “Something’s out there,” she said softly.

 

Branson looked up from his book, Aidan on his lap. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Go upstairs,” Cullen said sharply, squinting into the purple shadows.

 

“What? Rosalie blinked as she emerged from the kitchen with Mia. “What are you talking about, Cullen?”

 

“Something may be wrong,” Evelyn said. “Please, all of you, head upstairs, just in case.”

 

“I’ll bolt the kitchen door,” Mia said, her eyes tight with worry.

 

“Hurry,” Cullen said urgently. “All of you, get up, now.” Branson stood with Aidan in his arms as he herded Rosalie and Mia up the staircase.

 

“Cullen-” Evelyn began.

 

“You too.”

 

“You’re joking!” Evelyn scoffed, Dog’s barking echoing outside.

 

“Don’t argue with me!” Cullen snapped. “Get upstairs now! Bolt yourself in with the others.”

 

“You can’t tell me what to do!”

 

“Now that we’re married, I think you’ll find that I can!” he raised his voice.

 

Evelyn’s eyes glittered coldly, her head high. “We’ll discuss this later, Commander,” she said evenly and went upstairs. The family was huddled in Mia’s room when she joined them. She said nothing and went to the window, watching the shadows. There was movement there - crouching shadows, skulking and pacing across the open gate. The shadows walked on all fours, hunched like an ape. She heard Cullen walk past their door on the second floor and then head down the stairs once more.

 

Evelyn breathed heavily against the window as she saw him step outside, holding sword and shield at the ready. He had brought weapons after all! Her hand balled into a fist as she felt so helpless. Blast the arm! The shadows were hooting at the gate now, working themselves up into a frenzy.

 

“What is it?” Rosalie breathed as she hugged Aidan on Mia’s bed, her eyes wide with fear.

 

“I don’t know,” Evelyn replied.

 

The creatures hooted and yelped, finally charging - three dark shadows loping across the yard. They picked up speed, moving faster than wolves. Cullen was not in armour. Evelyn thumped the window, which was fixed in place.

 

Cullen’s sword flashed in the growing moonlight as he parried a wild slash with his sword. He turned his blade, catching the creature across the side. It rolled on the ground, bleeding badly. Dog lunged at the beast, mauling its neck with fierce growls, ripping out flesh and fur. Cullen had already turned to the second, striking it away with his shield and stabbing into it as it spun from the force. It rounded and clawed at him. Evelyn saw the blood from the strike. “Cullen!” she shouted.

 

The third was flanking him as the second beast lunged on him, blocked by his shield. A fourth and fifth creature were charging in through the gate.

 

Evelyn moved without thought, her steps like the winter wind. Glass shattered around her, her arms shielding her face as her body was carried by the wind. She slammed her shoulder into the beast on top of Cullen’s shield and sent it flying off across the gravel. Dog was on it in a heartbeat, mauling the neck of the creature viciously. A bubble of wavering green surrounded Cullen and Evelyn. The third beast hung in the air, suspended and slowed in mid-strike. “Evelyn!” Cullen’s eyes were wild. He stabbed into the eye of the slowed beast. It shuddered and fell limp. “Get inside!”

 

“Shut up!” Evelyn shouted, running for the cart. The two beasts charging towards Cullen now turned towards her, their strides closing the distance as she slid across the gravel and under the cart. Cullen left the disruption field and ran. His shield smashed into one of the loping beasts, throwing it of its feet across the gravel.

 

Evelyn was feeling under the cart hurriedly, finally feeling a click under her fingers. The panel opened and out dropped sword hilt and staff. She grabbed the hilt and rolled out from under the cart as the creature slammed into the side of it, swiping beneath it with clawed hands.

 

Evelyn leapt over the cart with a yell full of rage, cold wind giving her speed as she hung in the air. A glowing green sword burst from the hilt, marked with ancient elven runes. she slashed into the beast’s back, her blade searing bone and flesh. She rolled as she landed and came up standing back to back with Cullen as he struck down one of the creatures. Her spectral blade was held low, illuminating the yard.

 

He said nothing as the two creatures left alive circled them, hooting their strange calls at each other. They charged in unison, running in an arc around them as they tried to come at them from their undefended sides. Cullen blocked a lunge with his shield as Evelyn crouched beneath his shield. She fired a barrage of energy at it with her mind. Cullen’s sword parried the other’s clawed swipe. Evelyn slashed backwards, her blade catching the side of the beast and slicing it almost all the way through.

 

The last of the creatures slumped to the ground dead. It was over in what felt like a heartbeat, a short burst of violence to bring down the strange beasts. Evelyn caught her breath as she stood, her sword vanishing into its hilt. She heard a sword and shield hit the gravel behind her. Cullen grabbed her shoulders, turned her and embraced her, his breath ragged. Evelyn let out a wavering breath and buried her face in his shoulder, holding him with her one arm.

 

She pulled away from him and thumped a fist on his chest. “Don’t. Ever. Tell me to hide. Again.”

 

“Andraste preserve me, I thought I’d lose you,” he breathed raggedly. “I can’t-”

 

Evelyn’s heart was in her eyes. “You won’t,” she promised. There was pain blooming across her arms now. She looked down at the cuts in her arms from when she jumped through the glass.

 

“What are you waiting for?” Branson was yelling at them from the door. “Get in!” Dog was barking once more, pacing at the barn door. Evelyn and Cullen stepped away from each other. Cullen picked up his sword and shield.

 

“Stay there, Branson!” Cullen pointed with his sword as he and Evelyn walked to the barn. Dog was not barking now, but whining. Cullen took point, pushing open the barn door with his foot, his sword and shield raised. The barn was empty, the horses whinnying in fear. There, laying in a pool of blood, was a slight figure. Branson pushed past them and saw the prone figure on the ground. He crouched down beside it, feeling for a pulse.

 

“What are you-” Cullen began.

 

“She’s alive, but barely,” Branson said. “We have to get her inside.”

 

“She’s not like the others,” Evelyn frowned.

 

“No,” Branson said as he looked up at Evelyn, “she looks like a Dalish elf.”


	3. Mia and Branson Offer Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn begins to realize that, behind closed doors, "I'm the Inquisitor, do as I say" does not work when you're married. They also discover that there may be another growing curse in the Forest that stems from darkspawn and abominations. What better than a date storming a keep? It's turning out to be quite the romantic holiday.

The Dalish girl was brought into the house and laid out before the hearth on on a blanket. Branson had taken charge, stitching Cullen's injury closed. Mia was boiling hot water in the kitchen as the house came to resemble an infirmary.

 

Branson cut the last of the catgut sutures, Cullen wincing in pain. "Don't open it up again, I'm not a seamstress," Branson warned.

 

"Let me," Evelyn said as she walked over to Cullen. Rosalie was giving her her a wide berth, the young woman putting Aidan to bed upstairs. Evelyn got the impression that magic made her nervous. If it was affecting Mia and Branson in the same way, they were not showing it. She sat down beside Cullen and held her hand over his side as Branson moved to see to the slumbering Dalish.

 

"You brought your weapons," Evelyn murmured to him.

 

"So did you. You made a promise you wouldn't."

 

"You made the same promise." Their eyes met, mutual blame and guilt in their gaze. "Maker, we're such children."

 

"I'm glad I - I mean, we brought our weapons.”

 

“Me too,” Evelyn sighed. “It’s hard to leave it all behind, isn’t it?”

 

Cullen nodded wordlessly and put his arm around her, kissing her forehead. “Careful, Commander, I might get excited and open your stitching,” she smiled.

 

“I feared you wouldn’t be able to-” He paused. “It was foolish. I’m glad to see that you’ve still got it in you.”

 

“By that you mean you’re glad I can still cast,” she looked at him, her eyes serious. “So am I, honestly. I thought it was all gone.” She moved her hand away from him, the stitching still in him but the wound was not as raw or vulnerable. “Good. That’s the best I can do. I’m no healer.”

 

Cullen grunted and started to pull his tunic on. Evelyn moved to Branson. “How is she?” she asked.

 

“Stable,” Branson replied. “It will take a while for her to wake up. Her wounds are pretty deep.” He frowned at the sight of the girl’s hand and moved to try to pry her fingers open. Her hand was clasped tight. “What is that…’

 

“Leave it,” Evelyn said. “We’ll see how she is when she awakes.”

 

Branson looked up at her, his glasses glinting. “I wish you would let me look at your wounds. Your arms were shredded.”

 

“I’ve closed the wounds, Branson,” Evelyn said gently. “It’s good enough.” Branson’s look told her clearly that he disagreed. Evelyn sighed. “Perhaps afterwards,” she murmured.

 

Branson’s eyes were cold. “Or, perhaps now,” Evelyn gave in. She sat down and rolled up her sleeves. The cuts were indeed healing quickly, leaving long red welts in her arms as her skin sealed. Branson frowned, holding her wrists as he turned her forearms to check her wounds. He chuckled to himself. “Your magical healing leaves a lot to be desired,” he said.

 

“Thank you,” Evelyn replied stiffly. “I’m no healer. I have neither the quiet of mind nor the practice.”

 

Cullen came down the stairs, donned in his breastplate, pauldrons, bracers and greaves, though he had not worn his fur shawl. “Hard to leave it all behind, Commander?” Evelyn asked as she stood up.

 

“Rickard isn’t back yet,” Cullen said, picking up his sword and shield by the door.

 

“I’m coming with you,” Evelyn said. Their eyes met, their gaze crackling with words unspoken. Evelyn knew what he was thinking and spoke first, “You’ll be able to protect me better when I’m next to you, wouldn’t you?”

 

“Sophistry,” Cullen snorted as he belted on his sword.

 

“I’m still coming with you.”

 

“No.”

 

“Stop treating me like I’m an invalid!”

 

“You don’t have to throw yourself into danger to prove it!”

 

“I’m not trying to prove anything!”

 

“Then just stay here! This isn’t Corypheus, you don’t have to be the one to fight!”

 

“They’re my family too now, Cullen!” Evelyn was breathing hard, gesturing as she spoke. “I want to protect them just as much as you!” Branson watched from the sidelines silently as the atmosphere thickened, Cullen’s cheeks reddening as they did when he was angry.

 

“Sweet Maker, give me strength,” he ran his hands over his face in frustration. He took a deep  breath. “Get your robes on.”

 

Evelyn blinked. “How did you know-”

 

“Oh, Evelyn!” Cullen shouted in exasperation “It’s in your pack! I knew about it at Redcliffe when we spent the night.”

 

Evelyn said nothing. She turned to the stairs, taking the flight two steps at a time. Cullen thought she couldn’t fight any more. He thought she needed to be protected. He had looked into her pack! She pulled on her armoured coat over her tunic and breeches, then strapped on her greaves and bracers. She would leave her staff behind. She couldn’t move well with it now that she only had one arm. At least she could still cast some spells that did not require shaping the veil with her hands. She’d be damned if she became a liability forced to stay behind!

 

She swallowed her sweltering frustration. She had never argued with Cullen before. In the past, their purposes had always been aligned. She always led from the front, throwing herself into the fray. It was why she was a Knight Enchanter. And now, now that she had lost her arm, suddenly he wanted her to stay back? The thought infuriated her.

 

She descended the stairs, seeing Cullen waiting by the door. Mia came up to Evelyn, her eyes wet as she hugged her sister-in-law. “Behave out there,” Mia said. “Thank you, thank you for trying to look for Rickard.”

 

Evelyn nodded, following Cullen outside. Dog stood up expectantly and padded alongside Cullen. “I suppose you want to come too,” Cullen said evenly to the Dog. Dog barked happily in response. Cullen sighed as he glanced at Evelyn. “Where’s your staff?”

 

“I can’t hold it anymore,” Evelyn admitted. “I have to find new ways to fight.” Cullen said nothing to this.

 

Dog sniffed at the gate, its nose close to the ground. “Find Rickard,” Cullen said. Dog’s ears pricked and he loped off into the alleys of vines, Cullen and Evelyn running to keep pace. It was fully dark now, the moon casting inky pools of black shadows among the vines. They ran for five minutes after the dog until they saw the vines tattered ahead, the alley opening to a scene of carnage. There were more of the loping gray creatures who attacked them, three of the beasts lay dead among the scattered vines. Rickard and two farm hands were laying face down in the earth. Evelyn ran forward, feeling for Rickard’s pulse. She turned him over, his chest a crisscross of scars. She calmed her mind, her hands glowing as he worked to heal him.

 

“Daggers,” Cullen said, standing over the corpses of the creatures. “Did any of them use daggers?”

 

“Cullen he’s badly injured,” Evelyn breathed urgently. “Turn the other two over, I’ll do what I can. We need to get them to Branson quickly.”

 

Evelyn closed their wounds, but she could only do so much. The flesh was still raw and slightly bloody, but they were no longer gaping. Their leather farm-wear has borne most of the force of the beast’s slashes.

 

In the end, Cullen carried Rickard while Evelyn levitated the farm hands on discs of green fade fire.

 

Mia’s eyes were red but her expression steely as they brought the injured men into the living room. Branson was busier than ever, stitching wounds as Mia made salves and poultices under his crisp instructions. Cullen kept watch by the door, Dog sitting on the porch with him.

 

Evelyn felt quite useless. She could prepare no herbs with one hand and couldn’t heal any more than she already did. She walked upstairs instead, to check on Rosalie and Aidan.

 

Evelyn opened the door to Mia’s room after a quiet knock. “Rosalie?” she called. She heard a gasp from the darkness inside. “Are you alright?”

 

“Y-yes,” Rosalie said. “Sorry, you startled me.”

 

“I’m just checking if you’re alright,” Evelyn said, opened the door wider.

 

“No!” Rosalie squeaked. “I mean, yes, I’m fine, you don’t have to come in!”

 

Evelyn’s heart sank. Rosalie was afraid of her. She lowered her eyes. “Oh,” she murmured. “Good night then.” Evelyn shut the door behind her.

 

“I wouldn’t worry about her,” Cullen said, coming up behind her. Evelyn glanced up at him, defeated. It was going so well. She wasn’t supposed to use any magic. She hadn’t even thought she could. Now she had restored some of her old self at the cost of, what? Rosalie squeaking like she was a monster.

 

Evelyn mutely nodded.

 

“As your military advisor, I advise that you get some rest,” he said. “Things will calm down in the morning.”

 

Evelyn nodded once more, heading to their bedroom. She slunk into bed, falling asleep to escape the thought of Rosalie’s fear, only to be swept up in nightmares of her own.

 

+++

 

The following morning dawned clear. Evelyn blinked in the sunlight and sat up, her muscles aching and her body stiff. She washed in the cold water of the wash basin and went downstairs to face… whatever was there for her. To her surprise, she saw that breakfast was served. It was leftovers from the dinner before, served with warm gruel and bread. Evelyn sat down at the table. “Good morning, Mia,” she said.

 

“Good morning,” Mia replied from the kitchen where she was washing blood-stained cloths. She looked tired. “Did you sleep well?”

 

Evelyn shook her head as she helped herself to a cup of tea. “Did you?”

 

“I don’t think any of us did, dear,” Mia sighed. “Branson has been up all night with the patients, and Cullen hasn’t taken his armour off.”

 

“Where is he?” Evelyn asked.

 

“Checking the walls with Dog,” said Mia. She wiped her hands and went to sit down opposite Evelyn. “Thank you,” Mia said warmly. “For healing Rickard, I mean. You insisted on going out.”

 

Evelyn was silent, staring down into her cup of tea.

 

Mia started to set breakfast for her, filling a plate with bread and meats and hot cooked eggs. “Was that your first fight?” she asked matter-of-factly.

 

Evelyn nodded. “First time we’ve ever shouted at each other like that, as odd as it sounds.”

 

“Well, get used to it.”

 

“What?”

 

“Of course. Did you think you weren’t going to ever yell at each other again? Don’t be silly. There will be lots more yelling. He’s not going to listen to you like he does as Commander, and you can’t command him as Inquisitor, not behind closed doors. You’re going to have to learn to trust and work together as a married couple. That probably would take more yelling than last night.”

 

“That’s not comforting,’ Evelyn chuckled despite herself.

 

“It’s the truth.” Mia set the plate in front of Evelyn . “We’re happy you’re here, Eve. So’s he. You just have to work at being married. Talk to him.”

 

Evelyn began to eat, smiling gratefully as she picked up her eating knife. “How’s Rosalie?” she asked.

 

“Asleep,” Mia said, nonethewiser.

 

“Right.” Evelyn forced a smile. So it was only Rosalie who was… afraid. Perhaps she could give the woman a wide berth, stay out of her way.

 

She ate her breakfast and headed to the living room to check on the injured. As expected, Branson was seated by the sleeping Dalish girl and the farm hand, quietly rolling bandages next to his medical satchel. “Where’s Rickard?” Evelyn asked.

 

“He’s up and about,” said Branson. “Corbin is awake too. They were badly hurt, but they’ll live. Rickard is made of iron. Thank goodness you managed to heal them when you did.”

 

“Though my healing magic left much to be desired,” Evelyn chuckled as she sat down to help him roll bandages.

 

“Cullen would write to us about masters healers in the Circle,” Branson said quietly. “He used to, that is. Until the Blight.” Evelyn rolled strip of bandages silently. “You do know what happened to him there, do you not?”

 

Evelyn sighed inwardly. She nodded. For all that he had grown closer to his family, he never admitted to sharing any news about what happened to him at Ferelden’s Circle. Apparently, the family had found out on their own.

 

Branson took a breath as he looked down at the bandage he was rolling. “When I became a physician, I made special study of lyrium addiction. I believed that one day I would have to tend to my brother who would descend into madness because of it. After the Blight, he hated mages with every fibre of his being - hated them so much that even Knight Commander Greigor feared what Cullen might do. Then came the madness at Kirkwall...” Branson smiled at her. “You don’t know how much you’ve redeemed him, Evelyn.”

 

Evelyn chuckled embarrassedly. She had never thought of it that way. “He saved me too. There were times when I was nearly broken - by demons, Corpyheus, even myself. He held me together.” She blushed and winced. “I sound like a smitten village girl.”

 

“Is that so bad?” Branson asked.

 

“I guess not.”

 

“I’m not going to give you marriage advice, Eve, that’s Mia’s job,” said Branson as he took the rolled bandage from her. “But you do have more important things to do than roll bandages. Stop avoiding it, go and take your medicine.”

 

“Yes, ser,” she sighed, understanding his meaning. For now, she had to deal with Cullen. She headed out of the house. Cullen was inspecting the gate, Dog standing guard with him. Evelyn steeled herself. This was going to be uncomfortable, but they had to learn to make decisions together. Truth be told, she had to learn not to be the Inquisitor here, not to run roughshod over him.

 

“Hello, Cul,” she said in a small voice, coming up behind him. He glanced at her over his shoulder.

 

“Slept well?” he asked.

 

“No,” she sighed. “Did you?”

 

“I dozed.”

 

“I thought so,” she murmured. Cullen ran his hand over the back of his neck as Evelyn bit her thumbnail, awkwardness blooming between them.

 

“Cullen I-”

 

“Evelyn-”

 

They both stopped. Evelyn chuckled despite herself. “You first,” she said.

 

“No, please, go ahead,” Cullen replied.

 

Evelyn took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she said then. “For shouting at you last night. I should have thought about why you were asking me to stay behind. You don’t have to, though. I can still fight.”

 

“I know,” he said, bolting the gates shut with a crossbar. “I should have known that too. I guess I’m just… hoping that you could put down that part of being Inquisitor. That you wouldn’t need to face danger again, not with your arm... I guess I gave you too little credit.”

 

She hugged him from behind, his hands still on the crossbar. “You know I’m not going to let you fight alone, don’t you?” she murmured. “I invested too much in you, Cullen Rutherford. I’m not going to have you taken away from me. I would follow you to the Black City itself, and I know you’d do the same for me.”

 

“I would,” he whispered, his eyes lowered. He turned around and hugged her. Evelyn winced as the armour pressed into her ribs but she said nothing and bore it. “Let’s not fight again.”

 

“Mia says that impossible,” she chuckled.

 

“Yes, that’s probably true. We’ll at least try not to be so loud.”

 

Evelyn squealed in surprise then as Dog licked her behind the knees. “Maker’s breath!” she snapped at Dog, who bounded away playfully, wagging its hind quarters. “He does it on purpose!”

 

“He’s a dog!”

 

“He’s a mabari!” Evelyn squinted suspiciously at Dog. “They’re shifty.”

 

Dog barked quizzically and licked her across the face. Evelyn growled in annoyance. "Where did those dead things go?" she asked Cullen.

 

"I dragged them into the barn. You should come see them." The carcasses were piled away from the horses in the cool barn basement. The creatures were as tall as a man, yet their backs hunched, allowing them to walk on all fours. Their fingers were long and muscled, topped with claws that reached up to half a foot in length and razor sharp. Their skin was covered in gray fur, tangled and messy. Their faces sent chills down Evelyn’s spine.

 

"That's not possible!" Evelyn stared at the beast's dog like muzzles. "Werewolves?"

 

"Or something like that," Cullen nodded.

 

She looked at Cullen's injured side. "I was slashed, not bitten," he reassured her.

 

“They’re corrupted, that’s for sure,” Evelyn squatted down to examine the beast closer. She could see where her spectral blade cut into it. “We worried wondering if we needed Inquisition soldiers, the crown or our own involvement in this. Now it looks like we’ll require all three, if they are indeed werewolves.”

 

Cullen nodded. “Cullen!” they heard Mia calling from the house. “Evelyn! The girl is awake!”

 

+++

 

The Dalish elf was seated propped up against a wall as Branson hovered nearby. She had hair that reached her shoulders of the palest blonde. Her eyes were dark green, her skin darkened by life in the forest. Her garb was Dalish as well, but sheared and scarred from the attack that left her unconcious in the barn. Evelyn sat down beside her

 

“Inquisitor,” the elf greeted.

 

Evelyn glanced at Branson quizzically.

 

“She thought I was going to kill her until I told her you were here,” Branson said apologetically.

 

“We know of you, Inquisitor,” the elf said. She looked up at Cullen. “And the Commander. The Gods must have smiled upon us to send you to us.”

 

“I am Inquisitor Trevelyan, yes,” she said. “What is your name?”

 

“I am Mahari, Inquisitor.”

 

“What’s going on, Mahari?” Evelyn asked. “Five creatures come chasing after you. I hear news of killings as well.”

 

“Those creatures are… were… my clan,” Mahari replied weakly. “They’re all gone. Vanished into the forest. It started with the hunter Harralan. He was enraged with the way the blacksmith spoke to him here. Our elders assigned him scouting, hoping that the forest would clear his mind. But after that, he vanished. We sent people out to search for him, but they too disappeared.

 

“We decided it would be best to turn around and leave the forest. But a week ago, our clan was attacked.” Eshara winced in pain as she continued to speak. “It was darkspawn, Inquisitor. They came out of the trees and took us all. They’re led by an abomination who calls itself Mythallen.”

 

“The child of vengence?” Evelyn asked.

 

Mahari seemed surprised. “Yes,” she said weakly. “I was captured with the rest of the clan. We were taken to a keep in the forest,” Mahari lowered her eyes. “I was-” Mahari bit her lip and drew a deep breath. “I managed to steal this from Mythallen’s chambers, then I escaped.” Mahari held out a silver chain link, broken and twisted.

 

Evelyn took it, her eyes narrowing as she felt the power from the link. She looked down at the silver, engraved with elven runes. “This was in Mythallen’s chambers?” asked Evelyn.

 

Mahari nodded.

 

“This is a ward of some sort,” she said. “Judging from the power emanating from it, it must have bound something big.” She closed her hand over it. “Is Mythallen turning your people into these creatures?”

 

“Please save them,” Mahari begged. “Not all of them have turned, it can’t be. They must still be alive!”

 

“We’ll do all we can, Mahari,” Evelyn assured her, patting the girl’s hand. “I’m going to bring you a map. I need you to mark the location of the keep. In the meantime, Branson will look after you. He’s our healer.”

 

“Andruil go with you, Inquisitor,” Mahari breathed in gratitude.

 

+++

 

Rickard, Mia and Branson sat at the dining table. Rickard was up and about, though his chest and arm were heavily bandaged. He refused to be the only man laying down, however. Mia was watching him with concern. Culled and Evelyn were poring over the map that Mahari had marked. “I never knew there were elven keeps here,” Mia said seriously.

 

“There was news of the Hero of Ferelden stopping a clan of werewolves in the Brescilian Forest during the Fifth Blight,” Cullen said, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Apparently, werewolves were formed because of a Dalish curse upon humans. It involved a spirit as I recall.”

 

“But there have been no more news of cursed werewolves until now,” Evelyn said, leaning over the map. “From what I see, the Dalish camp is about a half-day’s travel away. The Keep itself is another day’s travel from the camp. We’ll probably have to go on foot.”

 

Cullen glanced at her. “We don’t have to go to the keep,” he pointed out. “A fast horse can get news to the Inquisition outpost in South Reach.”

 

“The nearest garrison is at Caer Bronarch,” Evelyn pointed out. “It will take the troops three days or more to get here, weather permitting.”

 

“Two, on a forced march,” Cullen assured her.

 

“We have to bring them in,” Evelyn said, “They will be required to sweep the forest for any Dalish who have been turned. And we will also need to take that keep.”

 

“The soldiers should-”

 

“We, Cullen. As in you and I.”

 

“We. You want to assault an ancient elven keep with an abomination inside, with me?”

 

“We haven’t been on a date in a while,” Evelyn grinned.

 

“I’m serious, Inq- Evelyn,” Cullen said sternly.

 

“Cullen, I’ve stormed a dozen keeps in the past. I can do so now.” She straightened up and looked at Rickard. “The Warden is coming?” asked Evelyn.

 

“He’d better be,” said Rickard. “I send Corbin to call him over an hour ago.”

 

“He should be able to provide some reinforcement here and to the town until the soldiers get here,” Evelyn said.

 

“The question is how we’re going to get through the Forest,” Cullen added.

 

“Dog,” Evelyn said calmly. “He’s able to track. He’s proven himself helpful. You were training him at Skyhold, were you not?”

 

Cullen sighed inwardly. She knew he had no more means to object rationally. She moved on quickly. “We should also send word to Cassandra and Alistair,” she said.

 

“I don’t foresee that either of them would object if we cleared out some ancient elven keep, but Alistair would need to send some of the Crown’s soldiers in to assist in the sweep and town’s defence as well.”

 

Mia, Rickard and Branson exchanged glances. “You’re talking about Divine Victoria and King Alistair?” Mia asked, sounding slightly awed.

 

Cullen looked a little embarrassed. “Yes. Slip of the tongue. We’ll leave when there are some guards posted here,” he said in a businesslike manner. “We’ll also need to write some letters, Evelyn. In the meantime, I suggest you begin boarding the windows, Mia.”

 

“I should return to town,” Branson said. “I can’t hole myself up here. I have a feeling I’ll be needed in town before long and the injured would be better cared for at my clinic than on the floor.”

 

Mia nodded. “Tell Treston that Rosalie is here too,” she said. “Rickard and I will be able to watch over her and Aidan.” Rosalie was still in her room, unwilling to leave.

 

“So we have our plan of action,” Evelyn said, straightening up. “Let’s do this.”


	4. Bragging About Hubby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn likes bragging about Cullen, even if Cullen would prefer to be warned about it beforehand. Ham and potato stew also turns out to be quite a turn on. All the while, something is following them, stabbing werewolves in the darkness as they near the Elvish keep.

The Brescillian Forest was actually surprisingly peaceful. Evelyn hadn’t expected a place of such dark history to be this comforting. Trees rose high above them, dappling the sunlight and casting blue shadows on the forest floor. There was the smell of earth and pine here, the air as fresh as a sip from a bubbling spring. The air was also quiet, peppered with bird song and the rustle of leaves from above. Cullen’s armour had an interesting sound when he walked, a mixture of leather straps and tapping heavy metal. Evelyn’s own leather robes flared out when she followed beside him. It was freeing not to adventure with a staff. Always, walking sometimes ahead, sometimes beside them, was Dog, romping through the woods like a puppy.

As they strolled, she thought back to Warden Jarred, a gruff man with a magnificent red beard. He claimed to have part Avvar in him and Evelyn believed him. He was the only other person in Vintiver who had armour besides Cullen, and he wore it with the same comfort as an old soldier would. Evelyn took to him immediately. He reminded her of Blackwall with far more interesting swear words.

Earlier that day, Branson rode in the back of the wagon, tending to Mahari and Rickard’s stricken farm hand. Cullen drove the wagon, a cloak pulled over his armour. The wagon jolted as a wheel hit a bump. “Eighteen,” Branson snapped from the back of the wagon.

Cullen grit his teeth in irritation and focused on the road. Evelyn was riding next to Warden, holding the reins with one hand. She bore no staff, only her hilt at her waist.

“I pulled the men off the fields when I got your message, Inquisitor,” Jarred told her. “They’re patrolling around the village. Some have watch at the outlying houses like the Rutherford’s. Not everyone is happy. They think we should be going out there to kill elves.”

“So they would,” Evelyn said drily. “That’s the only solution, of course.”

“Isn’t that what you’re planning?”

“My job was always to keep the peace, Warden Jarred,” she drawled. “I’ve killed a lot of things in my time, but not elves who themselves are victims.”

“Hah! Andraste’s tits, Inquisitor. I heard a lot of stories about you. Did you really kill a dragon in Redcliffe?”

“Yes.”

“Then Vintiver will be fine.”

“I hope so,” Evelyn said. Jarred looked ahead as they came to the town. “We’ll leave our patients at the clinic.”

Jarred nodded. “I’ll head off then, Inquisitor, Commander. Lots to do to get these farmers to at least act like guardsmen.”

He headed off towards the Chantry.

At Branson’s clinic, the two injured were laid out on cots in the infirmary. As Cullen and Evelyn helped to move Mahari and the farm hand, Branson went upstairs without a word. He returned with small bottles. “Take these,” he said, handing them to Cullen and Evelyn. “They’re healing elixirs. Don’t die, you both. You just got home, Cullen. We haven’t defeated Mia at chess as grown ups yet.”

Cullen smiled his half-smile and hugged his brother. “Whatever happens, get to the Chantry. It’s defensible, better than here,” he advised.

Branson nodded and turned to Evelyn. “Look after him, Eve. He’s a big stupid lug, but he’s the only brother I have.”

Evelyn laughed as she hugged Branson. “I’ll watch out for him. He’s my big stupid lug husband, as well.”

“Your honesty does you credit, sister,” Branson grinned as Cullen rolled his eyes.

Evelyn glanced at her big, stupid lug of a husband as they walked through the forest, smiling slightly to herself. Cullen was actually extremely intelligent,  just very, very direct. He had no patience for subtlety or duplicity. He approached problems like an auger, seeing straight to the heart of things and finding the most direct solution. That made him delightful to tease. “Branson is very clever,” she said quietly, patting Dog’s head as the mabari followed alongside them.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Cullen said drily. “Mother used to say he was so sharp he’d cut himself.”

“Cleverness must run in the family,” Evelyn said. "Where Branson is a corkscrew, you're more of a hammer."

“I'm not even sure if that's a compliment, but I'll take it,” Cullen chuckled. He looked up at the trees, his features soft. “It’s nice out here, isn’t it?”

“It reminds me of the Emerald Graves, but with spindlier trees.” Evelyn’s eyes lingered on his face, then glanced over her shoulder at the road behind them.

“The last time I passed through there, we were rushing down to the Arbor Wilds. We didn’t have time to sightsee. Most of the time, it’s all names on maps, to me.”

“I’m happy we’re here, at least,” she said, slipping her hand in his. “Even if circumstances that brought us here could have been better.”

“Truly,” he agreed. “Our holiday isn’t going quite as planned.”

“Well, we’re surviving as any newly-wed couple would,” she laughed. “Yelling a bit, making mistakes, making up, making it up as we go along. And walking through the woods hand in hand with our dog.”

“Except we’re being followed,” he said breezily.

“Yes, I’m quite annoyed about that,” Evelyn said, hugging Cullen’s arm and leaning her head on his shoulder

“Let’s find a way off the road,” Cullen said, his voice still casual and giving no indication that they were aware of the people tailing them.

“I can do that,” Evelyn said. “Brace yourself. I can Frost Step bearing loads in my arms.”

“Are you certain?” Cullen asked, his tone of voice indicating that he was definitely not certain about this at all.

“Sure!” Evelyn beamed, tightening her grip on his arm “Never tried it with a person before, but I’m sure it’ll be fine!”

Cullen stared at her, disbelief in his expression. “If you’re-” They vanished in a cold wind, sweeping up leaves in their wake. Dog barked and bounded off rapidly after them, his tail wagging as if it were a game. 

Startled shouts rang out behind them. Evelyn and Cullen stopped suddenly around the bend in the road ahead. Unbalanced by Cullen’s weight, Evelyn stifled a yelp as she tumbled on the ground with Cullen falling painfully on top of her with a grunt. “Let’s not do that ever again,” Cullen grunted as he picked himself up, a bump on his forehead.

“Good idea,” Evelyn grit her teeth as Cullen lifted her to her feet with Dog prancing around them. They slipped off the road and into the foliage of the undergrowth. They ducked down, watching the path behind them. From behind her tree trunk, Evelyn could hear voices coming up the bend in the road. Cullen loosened his sword in his scabbard, his body shielded from view by the thick bushes he hid behind. Dog lay on his belly, looking perplexed by the human’s game but going along with it anyway. It perked its ears up.

“Aye, I saw them here!” she heard a familiar voice coming up from the path. She frowned, seeing the familiar braided mustache. The blacksmith was still wearing his forge-splotched leather apron, a massive hammer in his hands. He was flanked by two men who weren’t looking too pleased to be there. Both carried machetes, implements meant more for the farm than for battle.

“She’s the Inquisitor, Coalan!” one of them said. “She’s a mage- She’ll kill us!”

“She’s going to bring the damn knife-ears to us, you see if she won’t!” Coalan growled. Evelyn glanced at Cullen. She jerked her head out to the group. Cullen frowned his disapproval. She rolled her eyes at him. He sighed inwardly and nodded, his sword clicking home in its sheathe.

"She's gone anyway," said the third villager hopefully. "Let's head back. That soldier she's with looks-"

"Then we keep going," Coalan snarled. “Look for them!”

"Gentlemen," Evelyn drawled. The three men spun around, seeing Evelyn and Cullen standing on the path behind them. Cullen had not even drawn his sword, but the two villagers with Coalan involuntarily took a step back at the sight of his cold glare, as if he were a spring tightly coiled of violence that merely needed an excuse to unwind. Dog padded out of the trees beyond the men and sat down to scratch its ear, its tongue lolling out of its mouth, its white fangs glinting as it smiled with the joy of the scratch. Then it turned around to lick its bottom. Evelyn wished the dog would have more sense of occasion. 

However, Evelyn secretly enjoyed the sight of the men cowering before Cullen. She held her stump of an arm casually with her free hand, watching them. "You were looking for me?" asked Evelyn. "I do so hate to disappoint."

"You!" Coalan spat, pointing his hammer at her. “You lied to me, missy! Visiting your inlaws, my arse!”

“I did nothing of the sort,” Evelyn flicked her hand at them dismissively. “Have you met my husband, by the way? Commander Cullen Rutherford? Leader of the Inquisition’s army across Ferelden and Orlais? Former Templar, Knight Captain of Kirkwall? Led the Siege of Adamant, Battle of the Arbor Wilds, etcetera, etcetera.” It was perhaps only she who saw the twitch in Cullen’s eye.

The villagers paled and stepped back further, to Evelyn’s secret delight.

Even Coalan had the decency to look worried. “And you’re the Inquisitor!” he growled accusingly at Evelyn.

“Yes,” Evelyn breathed. “Which makes me his boss.” She glared at Coalan. “What is your point, Master Blacksmith? Why are you pressing a fight? Your friends seem to have sense in their heads, at least. We have no quarrel with you.”

“You’ll bring the damn elves to us! They’ve been killing us, but you’re going to bring them back! You brought one already!”

Evelyn swore inwardly, they knew about Mahari. Cullen’s blade made a deceptively quiet noise as he loosened it in its sheathe. “And how would you know about that?” he asked, his voice full of quiet steel.

“We- We saw them in the healer’s,” one of the villagers blurted. He flinched when Cullen’s glare fell on him. “She’s there, she’s fine - Branson too! He’s not letting us in to take the elf-”

“Warden Jarred is there too, C-Commander,” the other added, holding up his hands placatingly.

“If any harm comes to them,” Evelyn growled at Coalan. “You will find yourself in more trouble than you know, blacksmith.”

Coalan must have been so strung full of nerves that he snapped. “Shut up, you whore!” he screamed and charged, his hammer held high. Evelyn’s hand stopped Cullen’s wrist as he moved to draw his sword. She sidestepped the wild charge, tripping the blacksmith and sending him tumbling. As he fell, she fired a blast of force from her mind that sent the man rolling back down the road like a rag doll, his hammer falling heavily onto the ground.

 

“Get him back to the village,” Evelyn commanded the two villagers. “See that he stays there, for his own health.”

The villagers nodded, giving them a wide berth as they went to gather up the unconscious blacksmith. Evelyn frowned as she watched the three leave. “Fools,” she spat. “Let’s hurry. The faster we find this keep, the faster we can kill that monster and put an end to this.”

Cullen swore under his breath. “I hope Branson is alright,” he said.

“The faster we get back the better,” said Evelyn, heading off down the road towards the Dalish camp.

 

++++

They left the road after several hours of walking and entered the undergrowth of the forest. Nearer the tracks, bushes and young trees grew thickly, fighting for sunlight that was so sparse in the woods. Get past that and you were in another world. The trees stood like pillars in a great cathedral carpeted with moss and grass, late afternoon sunlight lancing down through the canopy as if through stained glass. Dog ranged ahead, sniffing at the track. The atmosphere seemed to have mellowed his insufferably cheerful attitude. Evelyn followed with Cullen, their hands near their weapons.

Dog started to bark ahead as it entered a clearing. There were broken aravels here, parked in what seemed to be a circle around the remains of a campfire. The sails of the aravels fluttered mournfully in the slight breeze, torn and tattered, some scorched by magic. Arrows pierced the ground where they had fallen. Dog took off sniffing around the campsite.

Evelyn walked towards the fire, running her fingers through the ashes in the pit. “Cold,” she noted. “Over a day.”

Cullen was crouched hear an aravel. “There’s blood here, some of it quite large pools,” he told her. “Not survivable. Judging from the pools, there were some dead, some wounded. There must have been a two way fight here.”

“But where are they?” Evelyn breathed, looking about the camp. There were indeed pools of dried blood on the grass, but no corpses. “Look at the damage to the aravels, as well, there’s no scratch marks, so did those werewolves do this?”

“Werewolves don’t shoot arrows,” Cullen pointed out.

Evelyn frowned as she looked down. Amid the detritus strewn near the campfire, she knelt down and lifted up a small nug doll, amateurishly stitched and stained with blood. She felt her heart sink at the thought of what the blood-stained doll implied. If the elves were taken, if they were alive, she would find them. Dog came over to sniff the doll. It looked up at her expectantly, its yellow eyes watching and waiting for her command.

“It’s getting late,” Cullen said, taking the doll from her. “It’ll be dark soon. We should start out tomorrow, with this. Dog can follow its scent.”

Evelyn’s jaw tightened. She knew he was right. In her haste, she would have dashed out into the forest then and there, but even on her strangest adventures, she had friends who advised caution. “We should,” she said. She chuckled slightly. “Cassandra and I would have run out into the night. I can just imagine Varric or Sol-” She stopped and shook her head. “Let’s find camp.”

They set up their tents down the path from the Dalish camp. A small brook bubbled by the clearing. Cullen pitched a tent while Evelyn drew a glyph around their firepit. She waved her hand, the symbols flaring before catching ablaze. The etherial fire needed no fuel, yet burned cheerily. Cullen was already getting water from the stream with their waterskins. “Shall I cook?” Evelyn asked, taking out her small pan and travel rations.

“Er.”

“That’s your being-tactful-to-your-wife voice, Cullen,” she sighed in resignation. “You cook then. You’re better at it than I am - surprisingly,” she added under her breath.

“I heard that,” Cullen said, setting their full waterskins down. Dog snuggled up to Evelyn, its eyes full of hope for sausages that he might maybe receive. “Stop it,” Evelyn said. “You know you have better luck with Cullen.” Dog turned his devastatingly adorable gaze to Cullen.

Cullen chuckled. “Maybe later,” he promised the dog.

“You spoil him, love,” Evelyn said. “He’s not sleeping in the tent, by the way.”

“Of course,” Cullen said, in a tone Evelyn knew would mean she would wake up with Dog using her face as a pillow. Again.

“I’ll go set wards down the path and around the camp then,” Evelyn sighed, standing up. Cullen nodded, which Evelyn found an improvement. He wasn’t insisting that she stay ‘safe’.

Dinner was cooking on the fire when she returned, sausages and toasted bread with- “Stew?” Evelyn exclaimed in surprise as Cullen sat calmly stirring the contents of a small pot. “Where did that come from?”

“We had some ham and potatoes,” Cullen shrugged. He was still in armour and seemed totally at ease even while making ham and potato stew.

Evelyn grinned at him. “Kind, polite, excellent warrior, obliviously handsome and conjures stews out of thin air and ham?” she teased as she sat with him at the fire. “I am so turned on right now, Commander.”

Cullen laughed. “I should make stews more often,” he kissed her. “But you’ve praised me enough for one day.”

“Allow me to show  you off once in a while,” she grinned, slipping her good arm around his waist.

“Yes, well, warn me first, next time. I could barely keep a straight face.”

“I shall,” she said and then climbed into his lap.

“Evie,” he scolded, trying to keep that straight face he talked about, which was hard to do when holding a wooden cooking ladle.

“Yes, Cully?” she purred, settling down and leaning her head on his shoulder.

“Maker’s breath,” he laughed. “If I burn myself, it’ll be entirely your fault.”

“I could kiss it and make it better.”

+++

 

Evelyn pulled the first watch. She insisted; Cullen hadn’t slept the night before, after all. She sat with her back to the fire to preserve her night vision, looking out into the darkness around the camp. Dog had curled up with Cullen, of course. The beast seemed more attached to him than she was. She wiled away the hours trying to cast spells without her hands. The air in front of her would glow with frost, spark with electricity. It would take ages for her to work herself up to cast the way she used to with a staff. At least the skills of the Knight Enchanter was easier.

The thought of Cullen playing with Aidan bloomed in her mind. She bit her lip. Children. Something she never thought she’d have to think about. She would like for Cullen to have that quiet life, to have his children and family. She felt like she had stepped into a forbidden future with him. They could do things that were denied them before. She sighed. She liked fighting. She had grown accustomed to being the one who led from the front. Could she put that part of being Inquisitor down the way he hoped?

Sullenly, she let a burst of frost pop in the air in front of her as she hugged her knees. She would have to try, for his sake.

A hoot in the darkness cut through her thoughts. Owl? She took her hilt from her belt and stood up, her eyes peering into the trees. There was an answering call from the other side of the camp. She ducked into the tent. Cullen was still dressed in full armour, hugging Dog in his sleep. Dog was already perking his ears up but did not move from Cullen's snuggle. Cullen blinked awake as Evelyn shook his shoulder.

“Cullen, something’s out there,” she said urgently. There was the sound of bursting frost in the distance. “It just triggered a ward.”

He was reaching for his sword and shield, already awake. Dog bounded out of of the tent, sniffing at the air. Evelyn and Cullen stepped out of the tent, their ears intently listening in the darkness beyond the firelight. There was more hooting, something growled urgently and ended in a bloody yelp.

Cullen readied sword sword and shield just just as one of the creatures lunged at them, bounding into the firelight. His shield bash sent the creature tumbling into the fire as Evelyn flared the flames in the glyph. The gray werewolf burst into flame, yelping and send screaming as it charged once more. Cullen parried the blow and brought his sword down on its neck. The werewolf fell headless to the ground, the body twitching. Another burst from the trees but ran past them instead, fleeing something in the the woods.

Cullen moved to cut it down but Evelyn stopped him with the stump of her arm. There was a flare in the forest as the beast triggered another ward. A gust of cold burst past them as a spire of ice encased the werewolf, glowing gently with residual magic.

Dog was calmly sniffing the dead beast. It wasn't barking, not did it seem perturbed. Evelyn frowned at it in confusion. Why wasn't the mabari reacting to the creatures the way it reacted at the house?

“Are there more?” Evelyn asked the dog. Dog perked its ears at her and tilted its head. Evelyn rolled her eyes, wondering why she even bothered.

The decapitated werewolf was at her feet, she knelt down as blood flowed from its gaping maw and neck. In the light of the fire that lingered on its fur, she could see that there were dagger wounds in its body. “What in the Void?” Evelyn muttered.

Cullen had walked out of the light of the burning wolf and into the woods. Evelyn stopped herself from calling out to him to wait for her. She grit her teeth. She had to not interpret everything he did as a sign that he thought her incapable now that her arm was gone.

She kicked the werewolf’s head out of the way and relit the fire glyph with her eyes closed. She could see the firelight flare through her eyelids and turned from the light. She went to the werewolf encased in ice, the light from the spire gently illuminating her features with soft blue. Evelyn stared at the carcass, seeing more dagger marks, stabs that went directly to the beast’s vitals.

“Five more dead in the woods,” Cullen said as he returned to her side, blood dripping from his sword.

“You killed them?” she asked.

“No, but I made doubly sure they were dead,” Cullen replied, swinging his sword in a swift arc to swipe off the blood, splattering it into the trees.

“Something is killing them with daggers,” Evelyn said.

“I know, the ones we found around Rickard had similar wounds. You said ‘something’. Don’t you mean someone?”

“Do I?” Evelyn murmured thoughtfully, biting her thumbnail. Cullen reached out and pulled her hand from her mouth. Evelyn smiled at him sheepishly.

“A Dalish, perhaps?” he suggested.

“We’ll find out soon enough, I think,” Evelyn shrugged.


	5. If I Cannot Endure This...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn and Cullen battle at the gates of the Elven Keep, their minds tainted and taunted by whispers from the beyond. Evelyn will do everything in her power to keep Cullen safe, even if it means embracing the monster that Envy revealed her to be. Also, they get to ride hallas, which is always a good thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story references events from Envy: (http://archiveofourown.org/works/4896391), where Evelyn experienced her own personal hell at the hands of the Envy Demon. She has been forever scarred by the experience, knowing that Envy was not totally wrong about her.

Dog bounded through the forest as the sun was rising, its powerful muscles flexing and bunching under its skin, its tongue hanging out of its mouth as it grinned stupidly. “Maybe you should train him to at least try to look fierce,” Evelyn said, running with Cullen as they followed after the tracking hound.

 

“Function over form, Eve,” Cullen pointed out, breathing hard as he ran in his armour. Their feet pounded on the damp earth and moss of the forest floor until the path straightened out before them. “Hear that?” Cullen said, glancing at his feet.

 

Evelyn heard the change in the sound of their footfalls as well. The sound was not so hollow, it was the sound of flagstones under forest detritus. She nodded. “We must be near the ruin,” she said. Dog stopped and barked happily. “Quiet!” Evelyn snapped at the mabari, who turned and gave her a slobbering lick across the face. “Blasted- swine!” she growled, pushing the dog away, wiping her face.

 

Cullen paused near a tree. Evelyn was swearing under her breath. “Such language,” he noted mildly as he leaned against the tree trunk.

 

“I have dog spit in my hair, Cullen,” she grumbled, looking around the trunk. She pushed sodden locks of her off her face.

 

“I’ll help you braid it again later,” he whispered. There was a clearing beyond the tree. It must have been part of a wide plaza in the past, but now greatly decayed. Tree roots had buckled the ancient flagstones. Vines hung from the towering trees that arched their branches across the great space below. The winds had blown dead leaves into mounds among the broken flagstones and they piled up, filling the air with their gentle, damp scent. Dog was standing by Cullen’s legs, looking out with wide excited eyes. Evelyn began to seriously doubt the alleged intelligence of the Ferelden mabari at this point.

 

“What’s your read, Commander?” she asked.

 

“Possible traps, ambushes from the trees, abominations,” he said.

 

“Sounds fun, let’s go.” She stepped out from behind the trunk and headed off.

 

“Are you always like this on your adventures?” he asked her, his hand close to his sword as he followed her. “Charge in, spells blazing, ask questions later?” Dog padded along after him.

 

“That’s why they call it an adventure, love,” Evelyn murmured, her eyes intent on her surroundings. She shut her eyes, feeling the air around her. “The Veil is thin here,” she said softly, feeling words on the edge of hearing. “You can feel it. Something once slumbered here.”

 

Cullen stopped, blinking in puzzlement. Then he frowned, his eyes hard. Dog began to growl as it lowered its posture, the hackles on the back of its neck rising with its growl. “There’s a demon here,” his voice was tight as he spoke. His sword made a steely hiss as he drew it. Evelyn looked at him and frowned, seeing the expression on his face. “It’s speaking.”

 

She reached up to touch his cheek reassuringly, not saying a word. Then she turned and drew her spectral blade hilt from her belt.

 

“Inquisitor,” the words came to her mind, though she would swear her ears did not hear them. It was a voice that spoke through broken lungs and shattered teeth. It rasped across the mind like a filthy touch. “How unexpected…”

 

Evelyn said nothing in response, merely drawing her blade, glowing green in the morning light. Cullen took point, his shield ready and blade drawn as Dog stalked at his side. They approached a curtain of vines at the other end of the plaza, beyond which was the dark mouth of what looked like a cave, shrouded in vines and moss.

 

“How strange to see you, Inquisitor,” the voice spoke to her mind. “Your blessed mark stolen from you and yet you burn like a comet in the Fade. Both of you are known to us...”

 

Shut up, she snarled in her mind, her blade held low.

 

“Both of you have been touched by us, both came so close to being us. He longed for another, tempted and reviled for his lust for another mage.” The voice changed to Cullen’s in her mind, “Another vision? The one thing I want but cannot have…” Evelyn felt her heart grow laden. The voice continued to speak to her, “Such anger he bore, burning like a pyre-” Cullen’s voice cut into her mind once more, “-kill them all for what they did, they are not like you and me, mages don’t deserve to live!”

 

Shut. Up.

 

“And you… You long for power you can no longer have, power Fen’Harel stripped from you. How great you could have been. Envy was not wrong about you, Inquisitor… One small step and you could have made the world bow beneath your feet - Orlais, Ferelden, even the Qunari beneath the might of the Inquisition.”

 

Evelyn grit her teeth. The sweat on Cullen’s brow showed that she was not alone in hearing this voice, she was not the only one taunted from beyond.

 

There was a snapping of wood in front of them and to the sides, mounds of piled dead leaves began to move. Bones snapped together as they rose from the breaking tree roots, twisted and writhing, glowing with green Fade fire. They were bones of ancient elves, their armour rusted and broken, weapons of such excellent make that they survived till this day.

 

Before them, rose another. This one bearing a large ornate shield. Its robes were still intact, two pinpoints of light flaring from the depths of a deep helm with two ornate elven ears rising from it. It pulled a massive sword from the ground, standing up with its aid. A Revenant.

 

“Come, Inquisitor,” the voice scraped across her skull. “Come, let me give you back your power. Let me in.”

 

The sound of arrows flying buzzed in the air around her as Evelyn fired off a blast of energy from her mind all around her. Arrows shattered in mid air as Cullen charged forward to the Revenant. Their shields came together with tremendous force, Cullen’s body flashing green as Evelyn raised her barriers. The Revenant slashed at Cullen, who parried the blow. He flowed with the parry, ducking down, slamming the edge of this shield to the Revenant’s knee. The bone smashed under the impact, but the demon still continued to stand, cutting at him with stiff strikes in its new mortal form.

 

At the edge of the plaza, bones shattered to the ground as Evelyn cut down an archer’s corpse as Dog charged at another, slamming the corpse to the ground and destroying bones with its powerful jaws. The other corpses drew their bows, aiming at her. She ran straight at them, arrow striking her but bouncing off into the trees, her barrier flaring with each strike. She cut down another corpse, its head shattering under her spectral blade. She fired another blast of energy at the last archer’s corpse. It shuddered from the blow, its arrow shattering. Dog slammed into the corpse, terrible growls filling the air.

 

There was the sound of tumbling armour. Evelyn saw Cullen slammed up against a broken pillar and fall painfully, ten feet away from the Revenant. Blood flowed from a cut on his forehead. The Revenant was sticking its massive sword into the ground where it stood. It reached out a skeletal hand to her and closed its hand into a fist.

 

Evelyn’s feet slipped from under her, her head hitting the flagstones. She was dragged across the stones, her legs caught in a grip she could not see. The Revenant took the hilt of its sword and raised it as she came to a stop at its feet. Her leg kicked out at its knee hit by Cullen’s shield and she heard a satisfying crack of bone. The Revenant sank to the ground onto one knee and cut down at her.

 

Her barrier broke with the blow that knocked the wind out of her, pain searing her side. Her leg was still trapped by the Revenant’s grip. She saw Cullen’s strike the Revenant’s side with his blade. The Revenant blocked the blow with a shield bash. Cullen cried out when an arrow from the last archer grazed him in the thigh. The Revenant stabbed at Cullen. She saw him turn his blade to parry, but could not wait.

 

Evelyn knocked Cullen away from the Revenant with a force from her mind. Cullen staggered back on the flagstones eight feet away, the blade just missing him.

 

The Revenant turned to her, reaching out with a hungry hand. “Then let me kill you first,” the voice cried through dead lips. “I will ride your Templar into the depths of his own madness.”

 

Skeletal fingers closed around her neck. Rage rose within her, flaring like a thousand suns. The demon would die. She focused all of her will as the fingers choked her. She heard Cullen running back to the fray. She screamed, guttural, primal, a scream from the depths of darkness where fury burned.

 

Lightning flared from her spectral blade, striking down at the Revenant. It released its grip on her neck and writhed, arching backwards as it screamed. Evelyn stood up, unrelenting, letting everything in her flow into the spell as she willed the lightning flare hotter from the tip of her incandescent sword. It burned the air and seared the eyes to look at.

 

“You will die first!” she snarled, her knuckles white on the sword hilt, lightning arcing from the spell and shattering the last undead archer.

 

“And so you will be ours!” the Revenant gloated as it twisted in her spell. “Envy came so close- Vengence, vengence and fire for all who hurt you-”

 

“Evelyn,” she heard, the voice cutting through the demon’s gloating. She felt an arm slip around her waist from behind. She heard Cullen’s voice in her ear. “Evelyn.”

 

The spell faded grudgingly. The Revenant froze as the spell faded, a scorched figure of bone. Cullen’s arm slipped from her waist as she stood there breathing heavily, the red mists of fury fading from her mind. Cullen walked forward calmly to the still statue. With a grunt, he smashed his shield into the scorched bones, shattering them. The Revenant fell to the ground in a cloud of dust.

 

Evelyn looked up at him as he turned to her, her eyes filled with fury and fear. She grasped her hilt to her chest as she fought to catch her breath.

 

Cullen stood in front of her, so close she could smell him - leather, sweat, metal, blood… “It said it wanted you,” Cullen breathed.

 

“It said it wanted you,” Evelyn replied through clenched teeth. “The one thing I want but cannot have, they are not like you and me… I will ride him to his own madness.”

 

Cullen paled at those words. He shut his eyes, wiping the blood from his brow. “Once more, more pain, this time,” he breathed. Evelyn felt her spine chill as Envy’s words left Cullen’s lips. “You don’t know how worthy you are. A monster pretending to be just.”

 

She looked up at him, her heart in her eyes. “So you know now,” she whispered. “My nightmare in Therinfal.”

 

“As do you mine,” he murmured. “I regret the man I became.”

 

She lowered her eyes. “And I fear the woman I might be,” she admitted.

 

He embraced her. “But you have not become her,” he breathed into her hair. “Nor will I let you.”

 

She grit her teeth as she held him close. “If I become worse,” she breathed. “If I cannot endure this-”

 

“You can.”

 

She couldn’t help but chuckle as she realized where those words came from. She looked up at him. He would pull her from the brink. He always had, just as she had brought him out of darkness. They would hold on to each other against the tempest, knowing that letting go would mean losing themselves as much as one other. Her hand caressed his face and she kissed him  her hand glowing as it healed the wound on his head. The blood flow ceased and the cut visibly closed under the light of her magic.

 

Dog limped up to them, whining with shards of bone embedded in its leg and muzzle. Evelyn felt a pang of pity.

 

“Can you see to him?” Cullen asked, looking at the entrance to the cave as he pulled out a healing elixir from a belt pouch and drank it.

 

Evelyn took a deep breath and knelt down in front of the dog. “Be careful,” she murmured to Cullen, who nodded and went inside with his sword raised and his shield at the ready. Evelyn removed the shards from Dog’s muzzle and lips as the mabari whined piteously. She then healed the wounds on its muzzle. Dog licked her glowing hand. Evelyn sighed, scratching the dog behind the ear. “Silly thing,” she said.

 

It took some healing magic and an elixir for Dog to be up and about again. She stood up as the mabari pranced about. She sighed as it shook itself with fervour, its ears flapping against its face. “Stupid mutt,” she muttered and turned to the entrance of the keep.

 

Ancient door hinges hung from the stone, wood rotten away and littering the floor, crumbling underfoot. She drew her hilt as she walked on past ancient stone walls beneath a high vaulted ceiling. “Cullen?” she called, her voice echoing back from the darkness. Dog followed her, sniffing. “Find our most favourite man in the world, Dog,” she commanded.

 

Dog’s ears perked up and he trotted off down the straight hall, then turned around a corner. Evelyn followed him. There were stairs that descended to the lower reaches of the keep. There was light down there, the glow of torches. There were voices as well, voices calling out in Elvhen and Kings Tongue. Evelyn walked down the stairs after Dog and rounded the corner. Cullen was running his hands along the stone wall by a door. The room he was in was circular and lit by torches that hung from rings on the walls. There were tables here, and bedrolls that had been shredded at some time. Old bookshelves lined the walls, the books long succumbed to the elements.

 

“What’s wrong with the door?” she asked. The voices were clearer here, shouting for help.

 

“It’s locked.”

 

“Have you been stuck at the door this whole time?” Evelyn asked.

 

“I am no thief,” Cullen said, his cheeks mottling a bit.

 

She forced herself not to smile. She was quite proud of the fact that she didn’t. “Help me find a place where the mortar’s loose,” he said, sounding slightly testy. “I’ll make a new door.”

 

“Yes, dear,” Evelyn replied mildly.

 

In the end, it took Dog to find the small wisps of air through crumbling mortar, as the mabari started scratching at a section of wall, spraying bits of mortar from under its claws. “Not such a useless beast, after all,” Evelyn said. Dog barked happily. “Still not too bright, though.”

 

Cullen moved Dog out of the way and levelled a kick at the wall. The ancient stones buckled from the impact. A second kick sent the stones crumbling inwards entirely. The shouting grew from within. “Help us!” Cullen stepped in through the hole with Evelyn and Dog following close behind him. It was a dungeon within, an aisle lined with cells filled with hands grasping out at them, voices calling for help, pleading to be let out.

 

“Shit,” Evelyn said, looking at the heavy, ancient locks on the cell doors. “We may need more holes in the wall.”

 

“The keys are in the lockbox,” said an elderly Dalish woman with faded vallaslin, pointing to a small ornate box against the wall.

 

They unlocked the cells one by one, Dalish holding their hands with words of thanks and tears of joy. “What of the guards?” asked the old woman said.

 

“Guards?” Evelyn asked as she unlocked the old woman’s door.

 

“The demons Mythallen left here.”

 

“They’re dead,” Cullen said firmly.

 

“Are you the Keeper?” Evelyn asked as the old woman slumped down by the open cell door. She was exhausted, the fatigue written eloquently in the elf’s eyes.

 

“Yes,” replied the woman. “I am Eshara. Thank you, shemlen… We thought ourselves dead. It was only a matter of time.”

 

She glanced at Cullen, kneeling before a frightened elf child. The little girl looked up at him with frightened eyes, until he took out the nug doll they found at the camp. The girl’s eyes widened as she reached out for the doll. The Elven mother smiled and said something in Elvish that Cullen only smiled awkwardly at. Evelyn’s eyes softened, watching him. She turned back to the keeper. “You’re safe now, Keeper. There’s nothing outside that could hurt you.”

 

“Who are you?”

 

“I’m Evelyn, that’s my husband Cullen.”

 

“Evelyn…” Eshara said thoughtfully. “How did you come to be here? And to defeat the guards?”

 

“She fights demons all the time,” Cullen said.

 

“Mahari sent us, Keeper,” Evelyn continued.

 

“Where is Mahari? She escaped-”

 

“She’s safe. She found us. She said you were attacked by darkspawn?”

 

“No, not darkspawn,” Eshara breathed. “Mahari is no mage so she saw what Harralan wanted her to see. They were illusions. We were attacked by our own people, their minds were not their own. That was before they turned fully into those creatures, Mythal have mercy.”

 

Evelyn thought of Flemeth. Would she have mercy? “What turned them, Keeper?” she asked urgently.

 

“A demon, a demon once bound here but set free, Harralan was the first to turn, then the others we sent after him turned as well. The rest of us... he said he would show us how high elves can rise.”

 

“So that's why he kept you alive. He fought with a blacksmith in the village, did he not?”  

 

“Yes, Harralan was always prideful. But this… he would never do this. He is not in his right mind - save him, Evelyn, save him from himself!”

 

Evelyn nodded gravely. “We-”

 

The Keeper took her hand urgently, worry and fear in her eyes. “But you must hurry! He left last night for the village - him and all his creatures!”

 

“What?” Evelyn exclaimed. “All this over a spat?”

 

“It was never a spat for Harralan,” Eshara breathed. “It was a way for him to take revenge for the Exalted Marches, to show the humans their place. He spoke of news that the Elves would rise again and he took his own steps. Please, have mercy - save him!”

 

Evelyn looked down at those eyes. The Keeper plead for the elf who had doomed their clan and murdered people. Evelyn saw no mercy for Harralan. “I will do what I can, whatever it takes to stop him,” she said with complete honesty. If she could find reason to show mercy, she would.

 

“We cannot make it back in time, Evelyn,” Cullen said urgently. “Even if we run it would take us close to half a day and we’d be exhausted.”

 

“We can help,” said Eshara. “Our halla know the trails.”

 

“Halla?” Cullen asked, sounding dubious.

 

“Your halla would bear us to Vintiver?” Evelyn asked the keeper as the old woman tried to stand. Evelyn moved to help the keeper to her feet.

 

“If they must,” Eshara breathed. “Come.”

 

The keeper leaned on Evelyn as they made their way up the stairs from the dungeons. Two silent elf hunters followed the keeper. “Your magic wavers, Da'len,” said the Keeper as they made their way slowly up the stairs.

 

Evelyn glanced at the old keeper who leaned on her arm. The Keeper was a mage, as most were. She supposed it was not surprising that the old elf could sense her power affected by the Anchor’s meltdown. “I would imagine it is,” she said.

 

“For all you’re going to do,” said the Keeper, “let me help you.”

 

“How?”

 

A hand was laid on her stomach, a warmth flowing out like warm wine from within. Evelyn gasped.

 

“Eve!” Cullen caught her by the stump of her arm as she stumbled. Evelyn’s hand began to spark. She stared at it.

 

“There are more ways to shape the Veil than with your staff,” the Keeper said as Evelyn stared at her. “I may be seen as a traitor, but it is the least I could do when you saved our clan, Da’len.”

 

“What did you do?” Evelyn breathed, feeling the magic flowing through her as she did before the Anchor began to melt down.

 

“I calmed the flow of mana in you,” the Keeper said. “How long it lasts depends on your own meditation, but it should help you.”

 

Evelyn closed her hand, the sparks ceasing. It felt like old power she used to wield. “Thank you,” she breathed.

 

They emerged from the keep, two halla were already in the clearing. The creatures’ white fur and majestic antlers glowed in the sunlight like otherworldly beings. “Maker,” Evelyn heard Cullen breathe as the halla approached them, their hooves tapping the flagstones delicately.

 

Evelyn met the beast’s eyes, two dark pools gazing into hers. Something ageless looked back at her through the eyes of the halla. “Ride them,” the keeper said. “Save your people and ours.”

 

The two elven hunters moved to support their keeper as Evelyn went to the halla. She stroked the white fur of its neck. Cullen mounted his easily, unable to hide his excitement from Evelyn. Evelyn smiled to herself and mounted her own halla, cold wind bursting from her feet. The halla looked up at her expectantly. Dog barked uncertainly, staying out of antler’s reach from the halla.

 

“Do not steer, let them run. They will bear you hence,” said Eshara.

 

Evelyn nodded. The halla moved under her, trotting off towards the entrance of the clearing, Cullen’s larger beast riding a little ahead as Dog ran beside, keeping a safe distance.

 

“Are you sure?” she heard a hunter say behind her.

 

“He will understand,” came the keeper’s reply before the halla galloped off.


	6. Promise Me an End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn and Cullen finally confront the abomination that has plagued Vintiver and cursed the Dalish. They find help in unexpected quarters. It ends with a promise - words unspoken before. A promise of death from the only blade of mercy that Evelyn wants should the darkness take her - Cullen's. Hopefully now they can continue their holiday, if the Inquisition messengers don't steal Cullen away with the demons of reports. This is the last installment of The Dalish Curse.

The forest blurred around them as the halla galloped through the trees. Their bodies were like springs, powerful legs bounding across the forest floor through the trees. Evelyn hung on a best she could with one hand, but the halla never once let her even falter. The animal was more reliable than a horse. She made a note to speak to Dennet at Skyhold about possibly training a halla. She saw that Cullen too was having no trouble riding, the halla bearing his weight with his armour easily. “We haven’t once seen the path we took,” Cullen called back to her, Dog running alongside his halla.

 

“They seem to know where they’re going,” Evelyn called back.

 

“That doesn’t strike you as suspicious?”

 

“It does,” Evelyn replied. “I’ll deal with that afterwards. Rush in, spells blazing, ask questions later, remember?”

 

“Last night’s attack must have been the vanguard to the main force on the way to the village.”

 

Dog barked, filled with the joy of the run.

 

“At least someone’s having fun,” Evelyn noted drily.

 

“When we get there, I’ll take point. You cover me at range. Throw a barrier up and stay out of it.”

 

She knew all this, of course. But part of her also knew that Cullen was, first and foremost, a commander. He was going to command whether he realized it or not. “I’ll handle any outliers like before,” she added.

 

“Don’t test your luck.”

 

“I’d say the same for you. We’ve been on holiday and we haven’t once made love. I’m extremely annoyed. You’d better not die, Cullen Rutherford!”

 

“Andraste preserve me,” Cullen couldn’t help but laugh, his cheeks colouring at her words.

 

She’d better, Evelyn thought. “Dog! You go with him. He dies and I’m never ever giving you another treat!”

 

Dog whined and tilted its head at her as the halla galloped on.

 

++++

 

The village of Vintiver was ablaze. Smoke rising to the sky as buildings burned. Screams were audible when Cullen and Evelyn crested a hill, looking down at the scene. The halla galloped on into the village. Evelyn could see the dead on the ground, villagers and werewolves alike. Buildings were ablaze around them as looters ran between buildings, ducking from Evelyn and Cullen’s gaze as they passed. The halla galloped into the village itself, their hooves clattering on the cobbles of the streets.

 

The halla stopped as they entered the square. Half a dozen werewolves battled Jarred’s guards in the square as more clustered around the Chantry door. From above, villagers were pelting the attackers with stones and wood from broken pews. Evelyn jumped off her halla, her sword impaling a werewolf from the back. It fell down dead on the corpse it was feeding from. She straightened up, screams all around her. She flicked her wrist as a barrier sprung up around them as Cullen galloped past her. Cullen was riding ahead, sword drawn. A figure stood in the centre of the square, twisted and deformed, its skin glinting purple, an abomination of an elf. Evelyn ducked a swipe from another werewolf and stabbed her ethereal blade into its belly, her hand wetting with blood that spurted from the wound. She ran on, werewolves turning to her and loping after her. Dog ran snarling at the group of werewolves at the Chantry door. It bunched its muscles and leapt, knocking one werewolf to the ground, its teeth ripping bone and flesh.

 

Her eye was on Cullen as he rode the abomination in the square down. The beast did not see him coming it screamed and writhed against its own skin. Evelyn saw the blood that burst from the wound as Cullen cut into it. Cullen rounded again and galloped towards the figure.

 

Evelyn pointed her sword at the figure, ice bursting around its legs and locking it in place. A snarled distracted her. She dodged a gaping maw that tried to bite her from her side. She hit it with the stump of her arm. She blinked as it fell dead, stabbed from the back. “I know you’re here!” Evelyn shouted.

 

“Yes,” she heard. “I came to help.”

 

She grinned. “The Chantry doors,” she commanded. And the voice was gone. She turned back to Cullen as his sword cut deep into the abomination once more. The creature slumped to the ground, twitching against the ice, its entrails littering the cobbles of the square. Cullen came to a stop beside her. The halla snorted, its nostrils flaring as Cullen dismounted. Both the hallas galloped off into the woods. “That's all the help we're getting from them. We have werewolves to deal with,” he said.

 

“I know who’s been helping us,” Evelyn said, but her words were cut off. The dead werewolf at Evelyn’s feet began to tremble as its blood spurted through the air towards the cut down abomination. “No-” Evelyn breathed as more blood began to flow from the fallen werewolves to the abomination.

 

The blood swirled in the air, spinning like a red tornado above the abomination, absorbed into the creature’s body. The carcass writhed and twisted, breaking the ice around it. It started to grow, trembling as its skin tore to reveal purple bone, a massive creature rising from an impossibly small husk. It roared at the sky, standing as tall as the Chantry .

 

“Pride demon!” Cullen snapped. “Change of plan, we need elevation.”

 

“I’ll cover you!”

 

“Evelyn!” She was already running towards the demon.

 

“Do it! That’s an order!” Evelyn shouted, not looking back at him.

 

The demon turned to her as she charged with her blade held low. It smashed one massive fist down at her. Evelyn ducked out of the way, her steps carried by cold wind. The fist smashed the cobblestones, bits of stone cutting her face as they shattered with such force. Evelyn stopped behind the beast. She saw a bottle smash on the demon’s back. She slashed with her sword, an arc of fire flaring from her blade. The demon’s back burst into flame as the pitch grenade caught fire. The demon writhed against the flames.

 

A shadow ducked in the abomination’s legs, blades trying to pierce through the demon’s armour. It screamed but turned to her, wearing pauldrons of fire.

 

“And once more we meet, Inquisitor,” a voice sounded in her head. It was familiar. She had heard it in the keep. The demon’s many eyes took her in. “It appears you defeated the shade of myself I left behind.”

 

“Ready to try again?” Evelyn shouted, pointing with her sword. “Ready to try once more to take what you cannot?”

 

“You slipped from my grasp once,” the voice rasped at her. “Your weakness revealed so eloquently in your rage. Those who hurt whom you love... you cannot protect them all.”

 

It cried out as a dagger hit home, cutting at a tendon in the knee. The demon swiped at its legs, a shadow sent tumbling across the stones. Demon rounded to smash its palm down on Evelyn. She frost-stepped out of the way, running back a distance.  “You cannot keep him safe forever,” the demon said in her mind, chasing her as she bolted. She saw the pitch burn out on its back.

 

“And you can, right?” Evelyn shouted. A snarl caught her attention. She saw werewolves flanking her, charging. Evelyn slashed at one, hearing the satisfying yelp. Blood showered her as another strike caught her shoulder, her barrier flaring green. She tumbled and rounded on the ground with blade in hand. The werewolf’s chest erupted in blood. Evelyn looked up and pulled the carcass onto her as lightning whips slashed down onto her. She grunted, and shoved the carcass off, it was nearly severed in two. She ran on.

 

“Come on!” she growled, looking at the rooftops of the unburnt buildings around the square

 

A fist smashed into the ground in front of her. Evelyn ducked back and rolled out of the way of another whiplash. She clambered to her feet in front of the demon. “Can’t smash a little one-armed girl?” she taunted. A figure on the roof behind the demon.

 

“Let me in, Evelyn Trevelyan - all your enemies will fall before you - the Qunari, Teagan, even Solas… it would be so easy. With my help, you could protect everyone you love. You’re only a step away from your true self. I can help you take that step…” The voice was purring at her now as she stood before the demon.

 

Evelyn blinked at the demon. “Truly?” she asked. “You would help me stop Solas?”

 

“Not even the Dread Wolf would be able to stand before you,” the demon went on, reaching out hungrily to her. Evelyn lowered her sword, looking up at the demon. “Yes… Let me in.”

 

The hand was close to her now as she stood, eyes locked with the demon. “We could destroy him?” she breathed. “Did he do this?”

 

“Who do you think Harralan follows? Who do you think directed the clan to this forest?” asked the demon.

 

“Where is Solas?”

 

“Let me in and you will see all.” The fingers moved to curl around her.

 

Evelyn tsked. There was a gust of energy as a disruption field bubbled around her. The demon’s hand caught in it. It growled, trying to pull its hand free. Behind it, the figure leapt from the roof, sword raised.

 

The demon screamed as Cullen’s sword stabbed into its neck. Cullen hung on as it arched its back in pain, screaming to the red sky. It reached up to grab him, but Evelyn was already bursting from the field, cold wind bearing her upwards with her fierce cry raging from her snarling lips. Her sword glowed as she stabbed into the demon’s neck. She met Cullen’s eyes for a heartbeat. Then the hand grabbed her, ripping her away from it. Her sword tore out flesh and bone as she was flung across the square.

 

Her body slammed into the cobbles, her barrier shattering. She bounced heavily and rolled to a stop. She forced herself to look up, her body flaring in pain, blood blinding her in one eye. She saw Cullen twisted his blade in the neck of the demon. The demon screamed, falling to one knee. Cullen stabbed again. The blade twisted deeper. The demon fell as the disruption field flickered away. Cullen jumped clear as the massive body crumpled to the ground.

 

Evelyn pulled herself to her feet. Cole appeared beside her, slipping into vision as if he had always been there. He helped her to her feet, steadying her. He was injured as well, his garments spattered with dark pools of blood.

 

Evelyn was watching the demon. She pushed past Cole and walked towards the fallen form in the middle of the square. She winced as she held her side. She saw the pride demon burn into the Fade. She looked down at the elf that lay there, bleeding at the neck, blood pooling about his head. He was young, barely older than thirteen. Evelyn felt the bile rise within her. He was just a child. Cullen was looking down at him, shock in his eyes as Harralan’s blood coated his blade.

 

Harralan looked up at her with eyes full of fright and sorrow, choking on his own blood. “Anger, fear, how could the humans treat us like this?” she heard Cole’s voice by her side. “The Elves will rise again. The voice said it would help. Mythal have mercy, this cannot be - I cannot stop- I cannot. Help me.”

 

Evelyn shut her eyes. “I will help him,” she breathed. She knelt down by the boy’s side, stroking his head gently. “It’s over, Harralan,” she murmured, drawing her dagger. The boy’s eyes filled with gratitude. “You’re free.”

 

Harralan’s breath sighed from his lips as Evelyn drew the dagger across the dying child’s neck. She stood slowly, not taking her eyes from Harralan’s.

 

“Cullen,” she said to him, turning her eyes to his, tears held back by the sheer force of her will alone. She drew a wavering breath. “If I turn, would you be the one to kill me? Would you let it be no one else?”

 

He shut his eyes, his expression pained. “Yes,” he rasped, agony in his voice.

 

“Promise,” she pleaded. If all was lost, let it be his blade that brought her her final mercy.

 

“Promise.”

 

++++

 

The pyre glowed in the town square, piled high with the dead. The survivors of the attack gathered around the flames. Evelyn still held the torch with which she had lit the pyre. She stared up at the rising flames, cinders rising to the night sky - souls returning to the Maker. The song left her lips without thought.

 

“Shadow’s fall…” she sang, her voice rising with the only song she would sing to her grave. Warden Jarred’s voice picked up the tune, another joined in, then another. Branson’s voice flowed into the tune, singing a pleasant baritone as he held Aidan in his arms. Beside him, Mahari stood mournfully, hovering close. They had fled to the Chantry at the suggestion of a young man they could not precisely call to mind. Cole himself was nowhere to be found. Mia and Rickard hovered near them, Rosalie in Treston’s arms, crying uncontrollably. Cullen was watching Evelyn as she sang, her eyes on Harralan’s body in the flames. She did not step away from the pyre as it crumbled, Harralan’s small frame falling from view into the flames.

 

Evelyn’s voice faded. She let out a wavering breath as the crowd kept the song flowing, rising to the sky with the fire. She felt Cullen take the torch from her and slip his hand into hers. She looked up at him gratefully as the fire burned. Dog moved to lick their joined hands. The mabari suffered injuries during the fight, and now hobbled with one leg splinted. Evelyn pat the dog on the head and turned her eyes back to the pyre. “Look to the sky,” the village sang around her. “For one day soon, the dawn will come.”

 

++++

 

Mia’s house had become a hub of messengers. Inquisition messengers were coming back and forth with missives for Cullen and Evelyn. They had set up a makeshift office in the yard under a tent. Cullen his hands on the table as he looked down at the messages and a map of the area. “There have been no report of werewolves in the Forest, Commander,” said the messenger. “Nor have we had any sign of the Dalish clan. Captain Rylen has sent a squad to investigate the keep.”

 

“I want guard rotations established in an hour regardless,” Cullen snapped. The messenger saluted and ran out of the gate.

 

“Our camp should be up and running within an hour, Eve,” Cullen said to Evelyn, who sat on a crate behind him, reading letters from Skyhold. She was not wearing her mage robes, only her green tunic and breeches. Cullen hadn’t stepped out of his armour since they defeated the demon the day before.

 

“That’s impressive, since they got here only two hours ago,” she said.

 

“It’s standard procedure,” he said, resting his hand on the pommel of his sword. He turned to her and sighed. “The Crown’s soldiers should be here within the day as well. Rylen should be able to work out a plan to sweep the Forest with King Alistair’s Captain.”

 

“Mm,” she murmured, looking up from the letter. “Leliana sent Cole.”

 

“I thought that might be the case.”

 

“She says he was to guard us while saying out of sight. I wish I knew where he was now.”

 

“Cole does that, doesn’t he? He takes his mission seriously. I’m sure he’s watching over us.”

 

She smiled up at him. “That comforts me.”

 

“Ser!” Another messenger came up to their tent. “The palisades-”

 

Evelyn stood up. “The Commander is not available to hear about palisades, soldier,” she cut in. “Tell Captain Rylen we’re supposed to be on holiday. Unless another abomination crops up, he’s to hold all messages.”

 

“Yes, Inquisitor,” the messenger saluted, turned on his heel and left.

 

She took Cullen’s hand. “As much as I love watching you boss people around, put it down, Commander,” she smiled at him. “That’s an order. You have ham and potato stew to make with Mia, don’t you remember?”

 

He chuckled. With a quick glance at the yard, blessedly free of messengers, he leaned in to kiss her. “And then after?”

 

“Your ham and potato stew always turns me on,” she murmured against his lips.

 

“Oh. Good.” He kiss her again before heading inside the house with her.

 

As they entered the house through the door, Dog followed them in. “You two were kissing!” Rosalie’s voice piped up from the living room where she was seated by the window as Evelyn and Cullen stepped in hand in hand.

 

“Let it be, Rosalie,” Cullen said, blushing despite himself.

 

Rosalie giggled and smiled at Evelyn. “Evie,” she said in a small voice, looking at her apologetically. “Would you... show me some magic?”

 

Evelyn blinked in surprise. “Make the magic!” Aidan insisted as he toddled over to Evelyn.

 

She laughed and picked the boy up with one arm, cradling him against her hip. She looked at Rosalie gratefully. “Of course,” she smiled warmly.

 

Branson smiled in quiet pride at his sister from where he read in the corner of the room. Mahari was seated near him, sharpening one of her elvish blades with a whetstone. The woman was on the road to recovery and ostensibly could not leave because of her wounds, but Evelyn suspected something else keeping the young elf girl here.

 

“I’m going to have a bath,” Cullen said to her.

 

“I’ll keep all the nasty messengers away till then, love,” Evelyn grinned. “Go bathe, you need it.”

 

Dog immediately limped into the house and over to Mia in the kitchen, who fed him more scraps than was possibly healthy. As Evelyn sat down on the living room floor, levitating droplets of water for Aidan to playfully jump and catch, she did not see the young man in the floppy hat sitting at the open gates of the farmhouse, quietly playing with butterflies.

 

 "Dinner is at six, everyone!" Mia's voice boomed from the kitchen, reverberating through the house. "I don't want anyone late!"


End file.
